King Arthur's Knights 4: The Dolorous Tower - 1st Edition
by Deliverer
Summary: The Game of Houses was meant to be an exam, a way to test your skills against your peers, a battle royale among dorm houses. It was meant to be fun. It wasn't meant to escalate like this. Suddenly the game takes a horrible, terrifying turn when a mysterious escaped slave shows up in the woods fleeing from two wicked, evil men hunting him and those who'd help him. Namely them.
1. Characters

( **Important A/N:** And now, as promised, character bios at the start of the story. Let me know if this is an okay format for all of you, regarding characters. It probably won't be the one I use in the story I'm planning on writing as a tool to be used with this series, to keep things in order. If you want to contribute ideas for character bios, i.e. make some character bios or offer suggestions, feel free to. Can't make a guarantee they'll be used, but given I have a whole crapload of knights to bio up, at least some probably will be.

Now this is an outline. Some things I might have missed, and will add later or fix next time the bios show up. These bios will constantly change with the stories as the series progresses and more and more is revealed, or learned of by me. And as characters develop. A lot of unknowns should probably end up filled in by the end. I've tried my best to keep spoilers from the bios, so hopefully I got most or all of them.

I'm not sure when the actual story will begin to be posted. It needs a lot of work and probably a lot of additions. But that's okay, because it gives you a chance to become acquainted with the major players this round. Enjoy.)

 **Characters**

 **Accolon of Gaul:** Accolon is a member of Morgan le Fay's goth clique, and shortly after meeting her he fell in love with her despite the fact Morgan was married to his best friend, King Uriens of Gore. This leads to treachery, heartbreak, and the breakup of Accolon and Uriens' friendship. On occasion the two get involved in major violent episodes, but usually before death ensues they remember the friendship they used to share and manage to let it go. At least for a time. Until Morgan throws a wrench into the works, which she takes a sick delight in doing. Morgan returns Accolon's affections, but her heart also loves Uriens, so in her defense—which Accolon is always at, even when she's so obviously wrong its painful—the sick pleasure she takes in messing the two up isn't technically baseless. She's just trying to choose, is her excuse. Neither of the boys is fooled by her claim, but Accolon doesn't care. He's a romantic at heart and will fight to get what said heart wants, so his moral compass can be a bit—read a lot—ambiguous when it comes to the objects of his desire. Due to his affair with Morgan le Fay, he and Arthur initially have a rough start to their relationship, Arthur taking Uriens' side in the affair.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Morgan

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

2

 **Aglovale:** The daredevil of the group, it's disturbingly easy to convince Aglovale to pull off death defying stunts and feats. Needless to say, when it comes to distractions they all dog pile on Aglovale to get it done. The guy is one lucky son of a gun, and more often than not he makes it out of even the most unlikely of situations completely unscathed; or if he's scathed, it's usually not too badly. His boldness probably stems from the fact he's the eldest of seven—six after Gurgi died, which he blames himself for—and therefore their appointed protector. None of his little bros, or his little sis, are going to do _anything_ dangerous on his watch if he can help it. Besides, they're all over the place. It's easier if he can just do it himself instead of letting them have at it, then freaking out if they're taking too long for his liking.

 **Parents:** Pellinore

 **Siblings:** Dornar, Tor, Lamorak, Gurgi (Deceased), Didrane (Sister), Percival

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Dodinal/Pinel le Savage

3

 **Agravaine:** A snitch and snake through and through, but peerless in matters of stealth and spying, Agravaine comes off as a major jerk. Probably because he is, and a rat to boot. He is willing to sell out anyone and everyone. He gets a kick out of it. The others not so much. Luckily, his brothers have him on a short leash. They're among the _only_ ones able to remain patient with Agravaine, and defend him always. However, when the chips are down, there are few you'd want at your side more. Once you earn Agravaine's loyalty, you'll find no one more loyal.

 **Parents:** Lot, Morgause/Anna

 **Siblings:** Gawain, Gaheris, Soredamer (Sister), Gareth, Mordred (Half), Loholt (Adopted)

 **In-Laws:** Alisander/Alexander

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Cador, Nentres, Uriens, Arthur

 **Aunts:** Elaine of Garlot, Morgan

 **Cousins:** Constantine, Galeschin, Ywain, Yvain, Mordred (Half), Loholt

4

 **Alisander/Alexander le Ophelin:** Alexander is the young and assertive Byzantine Emperor, the husband to Lot's daughter Soredamer. He is in constant conflict with the Emperor of Rome. Not so much militaristically as politically. They don't get along. At all. Needless to say, Alisander has his own problems and often comes across as totally indifferent to the plights of the other kings in Worcestershire. For good reason too. Brittania isn't his concern, Greece and the rest of the Byzantine Empire is. Because of this, most of the kings of the British Empire leave him out of things or don't even try to include him. This in turn offends him because he wants to help, he's eager to in fact, but no one seems to give him a chance to. When Arthur tells him that he was in fact going to ask him if he wanted to help with the goblin issue, Alisander plays it off like it doesn't affect him that much, but in reality it made him feel included and valuable and so he's grateful to Arthur for that. He likes to help others with their problems. It gives him a break from his own. Alisander can be a bit of a jerk at times, but in general he's a good guy with a good heart. He'd have to be, because is he wasn't Soredamer would be out of there. She doesn't take that crap from anyone, and if she happens to be around when a friend or relative is getting bullied, that bully is going to get chewed out. Alexander is totally head over heels for her.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Lot, Morgause/Anna, Gawain, Gaheris, Agravaine, Gareth, Mordred, Loholt

 **Paramour:** Soredamer

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

5

 **Alymere/Astomar** **:** Alymere is a laid-back kind of guy, always casual, always carefree, and always up for a joke. He's never mopey and is always on the lookout for something to do or a new hobby to pick up. He's not much of a bully unless he has nothing else to do, at which point he will play the taunting game but never much more than that. He hung out with the jousting team for a while because doing so was a protection, but when Arthur came back into the picture and brought along Dagonet, Astomar started to develop the first genuine friendships he'd ever had. As a result, he quickly got sick of the jousting team's nonsense and finally left their company, choosing loyalty to his new best friend Dagonet, and to Arthur and those associated with him.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

6

 **Arthur Pendragon** **:** Arthur is the only son of Uther Pendragon, the high king of Brittania. At age twelve he pulled the sword from the stone and learned he was from royalty but was never sure how or if he was even remembered. Upon his ascension to the throne of Far Far Away—he's really got to change that name—and the reveal that he was Uther's son, the title of high king fell upon him, and he definitely doesn't feel ready. Arthur is a cynical underachiever who is picked on mercilessly by pretty much everyone at school. He has become sarcastic and indifferent to others as a result, often trying to distance himself to avoid being bullied, or assuming the worst of people and consequently getting unnecessarily sharp with them. Due to something really bad that happened when he was twelve, he is very estranged from Morgause. Things usually go south whenever they cross paths.

 **Parents:** Uther, Igraine

 **Siblings:** Morgause/Anna (Half), Elaine (Half), Cador (Half), Kay (Adopted), Morgan (Half)

 **In-Laws:** Lot, Nentres, Uriens

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** [REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_

 **Uncles:** Harold (Deceased), Budic

 **Aunts:** Lillian, Anowed

 **Cousins:** Fiona, Hoel

* * *

 _ **B**_

7

 **Bagdemagus of the Summer Country/Somerset and Bath:** The Vice-Principal of Worcestershire, Bagdemagus is a relatively balanced authority figure with exception to his general favoritism towards his son, Meleagant, with whom he shares a very, very rocky and strained relationship. It feels like the more he tries, the farther he drives his child away, and it's an extremely distressing situation for him. He loves his child more dearly than anything, and it kills him inside, how distant Meleagant seems to be. He doesn't know what to do to fix it either, which makes it even worse for him. He believes it might be either because he was too indulging, or too tough when things got rough. He can't be certain, though, and Meleagant never talks to him so that he can find out. Bagdemagus is not even half as headstrong and careless as his son, and he condemns Meleagant's crueller acts, often interfering in them. It wins him no points with Meleagant, but it keeps his conscience clean.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Meleagant

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

8

 **Balan/Baram le Savage:** Balan is one half of the hotboxing duo of twins, along with his brother Balin. He is the more focused of the duo and tends to hit the frankincense and myrrh less often than his brother. Between the two he's the lucky sibling so to speak. Not that it's hard to beat Balin's luck. The two siblings are very close and undyingly loyal to each other. They mean the world to one another. He can be a bit reserved when he's down off the perma-high, and kind of an oddball too, but he's a heck of a fighter. Despite the shared title, he is not related to Pinel/Dodinal le Savage.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Balin

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

9

 **Balin/Banin the Ill-Fated:** Balin is the second half of the hotboxing twins, and the one who does it most often for reasons that should be obvious given his title. There is no one unluckier than him and hey, the way he figures it he has to cope somehow. Even Arthur never suffered such terrible luck as he throughout his life, and so Balin is able to help the king deal with his own misfortune, even making Arthur look lucky at times. Despite this, he is an extremely skilled knight who has the huge advantage of natural ambidexterity, and when things get serious his lucklessness channels into a form of misfortune that he is able to put upon the enemy. He suffers much calamity throughout a good chunk of their adventures.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Balan

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

10

 **Bedivere the Marshal:** Kay's best friend, Bedivere is the happy optimist of the group, and enthusiastic about all he does. He is something of a peacekeeper and doesn't allow anything to shake his bright outlook on life. On occasion he would bully Arthur with the rest of the jousting team, but whenever he did it wasn't because he wanted to so much as because he is easily swayed by peer pressure. This is a trait of his that is easily spotted by those he interacts with, and most try to take advantage of it. Bedivere, though, has a deceitful streak, and isn't as easily taken advantage of as he'd have others believe. The rest of the knights tend to watch out around him.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Lucan

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Griflet

11

 **Bleoberis de Ganis, the Armorer:** A bully plain and simple, Bleoberis is dumb, very big, and a bit of a glutton. He strikes terror into the hearts of the others with his build, but he has a soft spot inside and never hesitates to help them if he can. Bleoberis has a penchant for smithing and takes to it extremely well. There is no better craftsman in all the land than him. He plays it tough and indifferent, but when those he loves and cares about are in trouble, he is extremely self-sacrificing. It's rare things become that dire when he's around, though, and so when they do the others are often caught off guard. They never really notice until Bleoberis isn't around, but he plays a surprisingly large part in keeping things from becoming a nightmare.

 **Parents:** Nestor

 **Siblings:** Blamore

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Bors, Ban (Deceased)

 **Aunts:** Evaine, Elaine of Benwick

 **Cousins:** Lancelot, Hector, Bohort, Lionel, (Numerous others to be added)

12

 **Bohort/Bors de Ganis(es):** Bohort is always ready to back up and protect his best friends Percival and [REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_ no matter what. Though not a born leader, he is tough and brave and loves excitement. He is one of the three future Grail Knights. Initially a Lancelot yes-man and a regular bully of Arthur's, like Gawain he was quite reserved about it and usually played backup more than anything. However, he begins to have a change of heart after Arthur is taken away by Shrek. Bohort, believing Arthur may have been killed by the ogre when he was taken, began to be eaten up by guilt and started to make large changes in his life to try and make up for blindly backing his cousin whenever Lancelot went at Arthur. He becomes pious and transforms himself into essence of loyal, not wavering in his stand and not easily led into temptation by anything. He's vowed to himself to never again go down that cruel path he started on. He is gentle and good and very soft-spoken, after his transformation, and as a result many of the others start to be drawn to him. He strikes many of his friends as naïve, but he is not quite as oblivious and close-minded as he seems to be.

 **Parents:** Bors the Elder, Evaine

 **Siblings:** Lionel

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Ban (Deceased), Nestor

 **Aunts:** Elaine of Benwick

 **Cousins:** Lancelot, Hector, Bleoberis, Blamore, (Numerous others to be added)

13

 **Bors de Ganis the Elder:** The school's councillor, and deposed king of Ganes, Bors is very involved in the well-being of the students he deals with, caring deeply for each one of them. He is a man who has seen a lot of tragedy in his life. The defeat of his kingdom, and death of his brother, the [REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_ … This is a man sick of war and tragedy and fighting, but who presses on anyways because no matter how he tries to leave it all behind, it always seems to find him. While he prefers a pacifist route—it avoids the needless death and bloodshed—he will participate in a fight because he believes that if he doesn't, he loses everything all over again and maybe this time forever. Needless to say, he isn't as laid back as King Pellinore, yet at the same time he isn't as war and world weary as Galehaut. Nevertheless, he can be very dangerous if provoked, especially if it's his sons or nephews on the line, even overcoming seemingly insurmountable odds even when better fighters than him have failed. As evidenced when _[REDACTED] "Have a nice day!" - Merlin_. Like that bad, err, keister, dad he is. Yes, he keeps it clean. Shove it. He has kids to look out for, gosh darn it, and he'll be a good role model for them or so help him.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Ban (Deceased), Nestor

 **In-Laws:** Elaine of Benwick

 **Paramour:** Evaine

 **Children:** Bohort/Bors the Younger, Lionel

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

14

 **Bran de Lis/Brandelis:** Brandelis isn't as big on mercy and decency as [REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_. He never knew he had a loving family out there somewhere. He had his father, and Brian of the Isles was a piece of work on the level of Turquine and Caradoc, and equally as perverse, if not more. Needless to say, Brandelis caught the brunt of it and it majorly soured him to the world. He doesn't realize he has anyone else but his father out there until [REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_. Nothing seems to go right in Bran's life.

 **Parents:** Brian of the Isles

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

15

 **Br(e)unor Le Noir, le Cote Male Taile:** Brunor tends to be a bully to most, but he is attentive and extremely perceptive. He is Bleoberis' best friend, and though he can often be quite serious, he loves to laugh at others' expense and often joins in on pranks if invited to. He was nicknamed La Cote Male Taile, or 'The Ill-fitting Coat', by Kay, much to his chagrin. Kay called him that as homage to the ill-fitting coat he always wears that belonged, once, to [REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_. Kay was, of course, unaware of this when he came up with the nickname. His brothers are Dinadan and Daniel, and he is very close to both of them. He has a longstanding rivalry with the school's reporter, Maledisant, who he does not get along with. At all. He is good at shrugging off biting words, however, and it takes a lot to genuinely rile him up. Usually. He is one of a number of knights who rode as 'The Black Knight', though he is not necessarily the official one.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Dinadan, Daniel

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

* * *

 _ **C**_

16

 **Caradoc Breifbas/Carados of Scotland:** Sir Caradoc is the school Doctor, and by extension a mystic healer. There are few who know medicine like Caradoc does, say for Gawain, and Caradoc uses that ability to the fullest. Whenever someone is hurt or down, Carados is there in an instant to play physician and healer; therefore, in the heat of battle, the others stop at nothing to keep him safe. They kind of don't have anyone better or even on par, say for Gawain. Carados is Gawain's favorite teacher. Gawain is a protégé of his who he is very proud of. Carados approves of Gawain's interest in the medicinal arts and does all he can to cultivate that interest in the young man. He is best friends with Cador of Cornwall, and for his sake even drew a sword on Uther during Cador's attempted rebellion. It nearly resulted in his death, but Cador came in person to Uther to offer his life in exchange, which was a move that had Carados almost murdering Uther on his throne and only refraining because of Uther's promise not to go through with the execution for real. When Arthur ascends to the throne, Cador goes into mourning not knowing that Arthur is his brother. Caradoc, out of love for his friend, promises to himself to depose this imposter king that is Arthur, for Cador's sake. He joins the rebel kings under Lot, and he remains oblivious that Arthur is the true king. Lot certainly doesn't volunteer the information.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

17

 **Constantine of Cornwall:** Constantine is one of Arthur's favorite nephews, the son of Arthur's half-brother Cador of Cornwall with whom Arthur shares a strong bond. Constantine, therefore, is very warm with Arthur and loves him dearly from the get-go, before any of his other relatives say for Gawain and Loholt even start to warm to him. Constantine is a bold child, a natural born and strong leader. Or at least he shows signs of becoming one, but Arthur has faith in him, and so does his father, so he'll try his very best to live up to their hopes for him. This can, on occasion, stress him out and cause brief panic attacks—it's a lot of pressure on the guy—but usually reassuring and comforting words from his father or Arthur can calm him down again.

 **Parents:** Cador

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Arthur, Lot, Nentres, Uriens

 **Aunts:** Morgause, Elaine of Garlot, Morgan

 **Cousins:** Gawain, Gaheris, Soredamer, Agravaine, Gareth, Mordred, Loholt, Ywain, Yvain, Galeschin

* * *

 _ **D**_

18

 **Dagonet the Jester:** Always ready to crack a joke, Dagonet is the class jester, not to mention a jester in Arthur's court. There is nothing he likes better than to laugh and fool around, playing pranks, telling jokes, juggling, and otherwise spreading merriment. He and Arthur are very close, but never really hit it off to best friend status. Namely because Arthur got easily annoyed with him. He clicks with Alymere/Astomar big time, though, who always enjoys a good joke. He also gets along well with Dinadan, the wittiest of the knights and the humorist among them. Dagonet is proud to say, he sometimes challenges Din for that title.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

19

 **Daniel von dem Bluhenden Tal, [REDACTED]** ** _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_** **:** Daniel is the philosophical bookworm of the group. He's quiet and sometimes they forget he's even there. A problem when bad things happen, actually. He's usually the last one to be taken into account, and even then sometimes he isn't noticed as missing until hours later. This does not bode well for him, or at least you'd think, but Daniel is perfectly capable of handling himself, and usually just as the others are starting to panic, he shows up again, and they feel like crap for forgetting he was there. This does get to him, at times, and easily depresses him. He knows he should deal with it, but he's not great at that sort of thing. It also cultivates in him a 'no one will miss me if I die' feel. Suicidal thoughts do on occasion happen with him, but usually he manages to shake them off. Either that or his brothers and friends talk him out of those funks.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Dinadan, Breunor

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

20

 **Degore/Tegyr the Cupbearer:** Everything in Degore's life must be kept in strict order. There is no room for error to him. He fights like a warrior, showing himself one of the best alongside Kay, and his personality can only be described as militaristic. When Lucan first came to the school with his brother and cousin, Degore witnessed him being hassled and stepped in to protect him. They've been best friends ever since, and Tegyr has appointed himself the other's protector. He has a high tolerance for poisons, which is an asset to the job he self-appointed himself to in Arthur's court, namely cupbearer. On occasion strangers confuse him for Uriens of Gore, given 'de Gore' in French means 'of Gore', and sometimes it gets him into more trouble than he'd like. Uriens isn't great at making friends, but he's nailed making enemies.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

21

 **Dinadan, the Handome Coward:** Dinadan is rich and flaunts it. While his brothers Brunor and Daniel are more subdued in their wealth, Dinadan is a typical rich boy, snobbery of the snobbery and willing to do many underhanded things to keep his family's rep and money. A grade 'A' con man, honeyed words drip from his mouth. There is no better merchant or deal maker than Dinadan. He can talk the most stubborn of customers down to a rip-off price without the slightest difficulty and is extraordinarily good at making deals. You want to make a trade deal, he's the man you bring. You want a woman, you go to him for advice. He's certainly bedded enough of them, and men too for that matter. He's a letch, a humorist, and you'd think he'd be absolutely despised, but it's hard to not like the guy. However, Dinadan struggles with self-worth, an inferiority complex, and well-concealed depression, a secret that for the longest time only Tristan knows. Kind of comes with raising your brothers after [REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Breunor, Daniel

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

22

 **Dornar/Durnore:** Dornar is docile and level headed. It takes a lot to rattle him, and he likes to put things in perspective and look at them rationally and practically. He's what one would call the voice of reason and doesn't panic when things start to go wrong. He presents multiple solutions to the problem in as calm a way as possible, sometimes with a hint of 'no duh' or 'really?' in his voice, so at times the others will take offense to something he says. Usually because it makes them feel like idiots and because hey, he's right.

 **Parents:** Pellinore

 **Siblings:** Aglovale, Tor, Lamorak, Gurgi (Deceased), Dindrane, Percival

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Dodinel/Pinel

23

 **Dywel/Dyvel fab Erbin:** Dywel is fabulous. There's no way around it, he simply is, and don't you forget it. He has a sense of style and fashion like you wouldn't believe and has a keen interest in hair styling, fingernails, and basically all else to do with fashion and style. Try to figure out which way he swings, though, he dares you. Opinions are divided as to which way he leans, but fact of the matter is that Dyvel really doesn't care for either. The only person he has any interest in is himself. The only times you catch him showing interest in either guy or girl is if what they're wearing catches his eye. Or so it seems. But when it gets down to the nitty gritty, he'll be right there to back up the others and put his life on the line for them. That said, he still creeps a number of the long-haired knights out. He likes to play with their 'pretty hair' at every given opportunity. He knows it psyches them out.

 **Parents:** Erbin

 **Siblings:** Geraint/Erec, Ermind

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

* * *

 _ **E**_

24

 **Ector/Cynyr:** Ector is Arthur's foster father and Kay's biological one. He is the school's Combat teacher and rules his class with an iron fist. His aura intimidates even Kay and Arthur, but beneath the tough, no-nonsense exterior, there is a gentle and caring man who would give up his life for his students in a heartbeat. He is very protective of his sons and was once a good friend of Uther Pendragon's. When Arthur pulled the sword from the stone, Ector realized whose son he was. However, he refrained from telling Arthur as much, admitting only that he wasn't the boy's biological father. When Arthur eventually learned that Ector had kept his parentage a secret from him, tension arise between the two. Fortunately, their relationship is smoothed out in not too long as Arthur begins to understand why those secrets were kept from him.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Kay, Arthur (Foster)

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

25

 **Ermind/Hermind fab Erbin:** Ermind is a quiet and reserved little boy, shy but curious and friendly. He was one of the lost children, kidnapped by goblins, and upon being freed from that curse, he becomes all but attached to his big brother Geraint by the hip, as Dywel is. When he learns from his brother the depths of the role Arthur played in his rescue, his curiosity it instantly peaked and shyness be damned, he just has to learn more about this young king who helped to save them all. Upon meeting Arthur, he quickly takes to him for a reason neither know, and Arthur shows signs of developing a big brother complex towards the child. Especially after [REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_.

 **Parents:** Erbin

 **Siblings:** Geraint/Erec, Dywel

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

* * *

 _ **G**_

26

 **Gaheris/Gaheriet:** Gaheris is level headed and mature, an all-around balanced ally of his uncle's after Arthur and him smooth things out a bit. Among the sons of Lot, Gaheris is the second easiest one for Arthur to get along with, as he's outgrown a lot of his prior animosity and disgust towards Arthur. He, Gawain, and Soredamer are the three siblings closest to breaking free of Morgause's influence totally. During the Game of Houses, when the dorm houses meet up at 'ground zero' and start to clash even before the competition begins, Gaheris manages to get things under control with aid from Arthur, Gawain, Bedivere, and the teachers.

 **Parents:** Lot, Morgause/Anna

 **Siblings:** Gawain, Soredamer, Agravaine, Gareth, Mordred (Half), Loholt (Adopted)

 **In-Laws:** Alisander/Alexander

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Nentres, Uriens, Arthur, Cador

 **Aunts:** Elaine of Garlot, Morgan

 **Cousins:** Galeschin, Ywain, Yvain, Constantine

27

 **Galehaut le Haut Prince of Sorelais and the Distant Isles:** King of Sorelais and the Distant Isles, Galehaut is a powerful overlord with a lot of support. Unlike most other kings of the land, he did not inherit his father's title or lands, and was instead required to overthrow territory for himself. He is very ambitious and emerges from obscurity to challenge Arthur for possession of the entire realm. If the throne of the high king was won by power alone, Galehaut would have it. His armies alone could wipe out all the armies of the rebel kings who attempt to ride against Arthur. Not even the fierce Kings Rience or Claudas dare cross him, and when his name is spoken in political circles, it's like it burns those who hear it. Unease and fear is palpable in the air. Yet despite all of this, Galehaut has an outstanding reputation for nobility of character. If one manages to get passed the fear and uncertainty and starts to hear and know him, a totally different picture of the man begins to form. His reputation of nobility doesn't exist for nothing. As an example, his animosity towards Arthur is not out of hate for him. It's deeper than that. He believes fully Arthur is not ready for the throne, that he'll fall quickly, and that whatever fate the boy king came to at his hands, it'll be far, far kinder than the fate that would befall him at the hands of any other ruler. Lancelot and Galehaut share a very powerful friendship, so close that some cruel rumors spread about the school claim they are lovers. They aren't. Galehaut in fact takes on a father-figure role to both Lancelot and Hector, and he all but raises them, loving them as much as if they were his blood.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Bagotta

 **Children:** Lancelot (Unofficially Adopted), Hector (Unofficially Adopted)

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

28

 **Galeshin/Chaleins, Duke of Clarence:** Galeschin is the son of Arthur's half-sister Elaine, and Nentres of Garlot. He is very loyal to his cousins and follows them without question or hesitation, which often lands him in deep trouble. However, Galeshin is determined and brave, stubborn and sure. He is a talented knight and among the first of them who would leap into a rescue operation without any hesitation. He wants to be known for his rescues when he grows up. Galeschin adores his parents, and so when for a while they split up it really, really throws him and does a lot of damage to his mental state. He dreads the idea of a divide or separation between the people he loves to the point Nentres fears his son would be traumatized if another similar event happened to him. Galeschin does everything he can to keep his family and new friends together, often panicking or, when he's little, having a meltdown when things get heated and it looks like a separation is going to occur.

 **Parents:** Nentres, Elaine of Garlot

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Arthur, Lot, Uriens, Cador

 **Aunts:** Morgause/Anna, Morgan

 **Cousins:** Gawain, Gaheris, Soredamer, Agravaine, Gareth, Mordred, Loholt, Ywain, Yvain, Constantine

29

 **Galihoden/Galiaden, the Count of Honolan:** Galihoden, the young Count of Honolan, is a power-grabber who lobbed onto Lancelot for just that reason. The power. And the social status. It wasn't like it was very hard, what with his uncle all but adopting the guy. He had an in from the start and he planned to use it to his advantage in the fullest. Except there was a bit of a problem. Over time he actually started to get to _like_ the guy, which was totally not in his plan like at all. He's accomplished in political circles, eloquent and a straight-A student in Politics. He's among the small group of knights all but guaranteed a place at a negotiating table. The guy's got the game in the bag, and despite his young age is accomplished at getting what needs to be done, done. A closer, so to speak. As he grows closer to Arthur, and the others, power-grabbing starts to fall to the wayside, and a more selfless part of him begins to creep out. It does not only him a lot of good, but also Honolan, which isn't exactly the nicest place around, let it be known. In the beginning, they probably wouldn't even bother paying a ransom for him if he was ever kidnapped. As he gets a handle on ruling more—in part thanks to Galehaut's mentoring as well as his growing friendship with the others—and subsequent increasing selflessness, the people begin to see him as much less expendable than they did at first. It's to the benefit of all sides too.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Galehaut

 **Aunts:** Bagotta

 **Cousins:** Lancelot (Unofficially Adopted), Hector (Unofficially Adopted)

30

 **Gareth:** Sarcastic—and youngest next to Mordred—son of Lot, Gareth is the school's hall-monitor, a job he takes very seriously and faces with exceptional courage. His lack of fear in halting Shrek, an ogre, when he came with his companions to take Arthur to Far Far Away proves as much. His biting tongue can conquer more enemies than any weapon he could wield ever would, and he can conquer a lot of enemies with weapons. Don't even _try_ to out-snark Gareth, you won't get anywhere. The guy is renowned for his long-suffering sighs that can just drag on and on, and he doesn't put up with your nonsense, generally just ignoring you or walking away if you start to get on his nerves. Though his sharp tongue can be cruel, there is also a softer spot in him…

 **Parents:** Lot, Morgause

 **Siblings:** Gawain, Gaheris, Soredamer, Agravaine, Mordred (Half), Loholt (Adopted)

 **In-Laws:** Alisander

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Cador, Nentres, Uriens, Arthur

 **Aunts:** Elaine of Garlot, Morgan

 **Cousins:** Constantine, Galeschin, Ywain, Yvain, Mordred (Half), Loholt

31

 **Gawain** **:** The most noble and self-sacrificing of Arthur's knights by far, Gawain gradually becomes Arthur's best friend after Arthur's return. He is an avid studier of medicinal practices, learning under Caradoc, and loves his younger siblings dearly. His father is King Lot of Orkney, whom he is very close to; as are the rest of his brothers. He and the rest of his siblings, say for Mordred, have a very strained relationship with their mother Morgause, aka Anna, but Gawain and Gaheris in particular take issue with her. Gawain was a Lancelot yes-man for the longest time, before he started to come into his own, but even at his worst he'd never been much of a bully to Arthur, even breaking up attacks before they became too violent. For all his nobility, though, Gawain is prone to making bad judgement calls or acting without having all the facts in place. Especially when it comes to his siblings. Hurt them, pray you have a good excuse for why it happened. His honor often puts him in very, very difficult and painful positions. If not for Arthur, his father, and Lancelot, Gawain would probably be among the most jaded and guilt-stricken knights of all the Round Table, for some of the mistakes he's made and some of the things he's had to do or been asked to do…

 **Parents:** Lot, Morgause

 **Siblings:** Gaheris, Soredamer, Agravaine, Gareth, Morholt (Half), Loholt (Adopted)

 **In-Laws:** Alexander/Alisander

 **Paramour:** Blanchemal (Fling)

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Arthur, Cador, Nentres, Uriens

 **Aunts:** Elaine of Garlot, Morgan

 **Cousins:** Constantine, Galeschin, Ywain, Yvain, Mordred (Half), Loholt

32

 **Geraint/Erec fab Erbin:** Geraint is a sports nut and loves all kinds of them. Ball, war, toss the dwarf, taunt the talking trees, kill the ogre, you name the sport he's there and willing to do whatever it takes to win it. One of his goals is to become renowned for his prowess in such activities. This puts him often into conflict with Sagremore, who is all about competition, and the two regularly butt heads in competitive situations to each others' detriment. He has two brothers, Dywel and Ermind, who he is completely devoted to and takes care of to the best of his ability. He nearly lost them once, they were taken by goblins and turned into said creatures, but thanks to Arthur's advocating for them, the two were spared and freed from the goblin shells, returned to humanity. Now Erec has no intention of ever letting either of them out of his sight again, so heaven help whoever tries to pull those two away from him.

 **Parents:** Erbin

 **Siblings:** Dywel/Dyvel, Ermind

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

33

 **Griflet le Fise de Dieu:** Very studious and serious about his knight studies, Griflet lets little interrupt him when he's buried in a study book. His cousin Lucan highly approves of his study habits yet at the same time is jealous because he fears Griflet may one day actually challenge him for position as the smartest kid in school. What Lucan doesn't realize is that Griflet's intelligences don't lie in Math and Sciences, so there's nothing really challenging him, but Griflet won't tell _him_ that. He is a courageous knight and among those who most often play avenger when someone has been wronged. Griflet is in fact the very first one Arthur officially knights. Aside from Ector and Kay, that is, who he knighted accidentally when he initially drew the sword from the stone. He pledges undying allegiance to Arthur early on.

 **Parents:** Do/Dieu

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Bedivere, Lucan

* * *

 ** _H_**

34

 **Hector de Maris:** Hector is Lancelot's half-brother. While he wasn't brought up by the Lady of the Lake, like Lancelot was, he learned under her for many years. What interested him most were legends of the sea. Sirens, nixie, selkies, mermaids etc, he knows about them all. Lancelot very much approves of his knowledge of maritime legends. When Hector's mother died, Lancelot was the one to take him in despite Lancelot's birth mother's protests. Lancelot's defying her got him disowned by the once-queen, and Hector feels eternally guilty for that even despite Lancelot insisting he doesn't regret it and that his mother was gone long ago. Hector loves his half-brother dearly and they get along exceedingly well. They are also very tight with their numerous cousins, say Villiars whom Lancelot is on the ropes with. Hector likes roleplaying and is part of the Tabletop Strategizers Club, but he doesn't let it consume him to the degree Xavier Ironside, Gary/Gures, Segwarides, and Hoel do. Hector would rather be out adventuring in real life.

 **Parents:** Ban

 **Siblings:** Lancelot (Half)

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Bors, Nestor

 **Aunts:** Evaine

 **Cousins:** Bohort/Bors, Lionel, Bleoberis, Blamore, (Numerous others to be added)

35

 **Hoel:** Arthur's cousin and a nerd, plain and simple, Hoel loves Roleplaying games and loves talking about things most have no interest in. But the guy is good on the field of battle, and when it comes to questing and trying to make possibly life-altering decisions, Hoel is always the first consulted. The guy is insanely genre savvy. He speaks with a stutter. He and Arthur hadn't talked very much for years, before Arthur returned to Worcetershire, so Hoel is often unsure about where he stands with his cousin, but Arthur loves him dearly, and when he come to accept that, it also helps him come out of his shell a bit.

 **Parents:** Budic, Anowed

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Harold, Uther

 **Aunts:** Lillian, Igraine

 **Cousins:** Morgause/Anna, Fiona, Elaine or Garlot, Cador, Morgan, Arthur

* * *

 _ **K**_

36

 **Kay le Seneschal:** Also known as Kay the Tall, Kay is Arthur's foster brother by Ector De Maris. Though he is unrelated to Morgan le Fay, he views her as the sister he never had. He tends to try to manipulate Arthur into getting him what he wants, but his ultimate loyalty to the king is unquestioned even after he joins the jousting team. However, after an incident having to do with [REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_. He turns from a hot headed yet rational boy, into one who is cruel, acid tongued, rude, a bully, a foil for the others, and just plain nasty. He does, however, retain some of his old personality, putting his life on the line for Arthur constantly. Kay is an incredibly useful asset to the Knights of the Round Table because [REDACTED _] "Have a nice day!" – Merlin_.

 **Parents:** Ector

 **Siblings:** Arthur (Adopted), Morgan (Surrogate)

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

* * *

 _ **L**_

37

 **Lamorak of Gaul:** Lamorak is a bard, a troubadour. Every sentence he speaks is either lyrics from some song or spoken in singing speech. He loves to perform, and while never a bully to Arthur, he was often a bystander. He's a bit oblivious to the goings on around him, trapped in his own little world of music, and has more than once been nearly picked on for his inattention, but all those who try immediately regret it. He is the third most talented of all the knights, after Lancelot and Tristan. Lamorak has a bit of a self-control problem that mainly manifests in drinking born of deep emotional scarring from long ago. He was [REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_.

 **Parents:** Pellinore

 **Siblings:** Aglovale, Dornar, Tor, Dindrane, Gurgi (Deceased), Percival

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Pinel/Dodinal

38

 **Lancelot du Lac** **:** Initially Arthur's worst tormentor, and the captain of the jousting team, as Arthur begins to come into himself, Lancelot finds himself gradually developing a deeper and deeper respect for him. His position as Arthur's worst nightmare is eventually taken over by Mordred. Though he's the quintessential big man on campus, and portrays himself as a bully, he loves his younger half-brother Hector, as well as his many cousins—there's a whole list of them—very dearly. Raised by the Lady of the Lake, he has a knowledge of myths and legends that the others don't have, as well as an understanding of magic that could have been great, if he'd been the slightest bit interested in developing it beyond the building blocks. What he knows, though, is more than enough to help him and the others out in a pinch.

 **Parents:** Ban, Elaine of Benwick

 **Siblings:** Hector (Half)

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Elaine of Corbenic (Fling)

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Bors, Nestor

 **Aunts:** Evaine

 **Cousins:** Bohort/Bors, Lionel, Bleoberis, Blamore, (Numerous Others to be Added)

39

 **Lionel de Ganis:** Lionel is generally a happy go-lucky sort of boy, but when crap goes down he's up and ready to fight back at any cost. He is very worried about the others, especially Bors the Younger who happens to be his brother, and he is quite sweet. He is very much beloved of all his cousins, and he in turn loves them just as much. There is nothing he wouldn't do for his family. Lionel, though, is not without deep mental scarring. As a child, when Claudas rode against Ban and Bors to overthrow them [REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_.

 **Parents:** Bors, Evaine

 **Siblings:** Bohort/Bors

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Ban, Nestor

 **Aunts:** Elaine of Benwick

 **Cousins:** Lancelot, Hector, Bleoberis, Blamore, (Numerous Others to be Added)

40

 **Loholt/Bohart:** Is [REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_. It's a complicated story. Loholt is a very strong, brave, and talented knight, who all but idolizes Arthur. He loves his adoptive father Lot, and most of his adoptive siblings. However, he generally prefers to pretend Mordred isn't related to him. He doesn't trust Mordred as far as he can throw him, and Mordred is just fine with Loholt's cold shoulder. He has enough to deal with already with his other brothers. However, every so often a hint of brotherly affection will slip in between the two. If you can call anything Mordred does affection. Loholt also doesn't like or trust Morgause, and while he tries to get her to love him and tries calling her mom, he ultimately decides Lot is the only parent he needs. Loholt is another of Arthur's morality pets, and the one Arthur really strives to set an example for.

 **Parents:** Lisanor, Lot (Adoptive)

 **Siblings:** Gawain, Gaheris, Soredamer, Agravaine, Gareth, Mordred (Half)

 **In-Laws:** Alisander

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Uriens, Nentres, Cador, Arthur (Allegedly)

 **Aunts:** Morgan, Elaine of Garlot

 **Cousins:** Ywain, Yvain, Galeschin, Constantine, Clegis

41

 **Lucan/Lucas the Butler:** The smartest of the bunch, pretty much the geek, he tends to back up only factual statements. If put on the spot and expected to back up a lie, he simply won't comment at all or will give a roundabout answer that ultimately leads to fact. Arthur wonders, initially, why the jousting team seems to ignore him. He realizes soon enough that it's a stupid thing to wonder. On top of his own skill, Lucan also has the protection of his best friend Degore, as well as his older brother Bedivere and his cousin Griflet. When things get chaotic in Arthur's halls, Lucan's right there to help straighten it out or talk Arthur through doing so. He's a butler. It's literally in his job description.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Bedivere

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Griflet

* * *

 _ **M**_

42

 **Meliot de Logres:** Sir Meliot was the keeper if the Sword in the Stone, until Arthur withdrew it. At which point he became keeper of the Courtyards. Basically, a glorified gardener. Which is fine with him. He loves to garden and landscape, actually, much to the surprise of the others when they finally figure it out. He never struck them as the type, and it's no wonder, really, because when the going gets tough he's a hell of a fighter and adept in magic use. Which shouldn't be a surprise, given he's [REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_. As if that wasn't badass enough, he has a pet lion. It comes on command. It snuggles with him at night. He loves it. Hurt it and you will die. Horribly. However, a darker secret he holds is that he is the brother of the wicked Brian of the Isles who's… perversion doesn't start off well-known but soon becomes abundantly clear. At first Meliot tries to reconcile with his brother. Then Brian's perverse tendencies are made known to him… Suffice it to say, after that Meliot would like his brother to die in a hole. If he could, he'd rip the man's head off himself for the things Brian has done, but he knows how _that_ would end. Badly. Meliot doesn't like his father either. His father murdered his wife. If he could, he'd rip _his_ head off too, but just as it would end badly with Brian, it would end badly with his father as well. Meliot is an older version of Tristan. He rarely smiles and is serious, but also cares deeply for his students and would do anything and everything for them, as much as he would have them believe otherwise.

 **Parents:** Marin the Jealous

 **Siblings:** Brian of the Isles

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** [REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_.

43

 **Mordred:** Arthur's son by Morgause, Mordred takes over Lancelot's position as Arthur's principle tormenter. He is taunting, unsettlingly cruel, malicious, sneaky, vengeful, dark, kind of creepy, and all-around disturbing. And that's before he's five. It gets worse from there. In no small part due to his mother's whispered words of manipulation, her deceits, and her goading. She has a special song just for him… He isn't what you'd call a favorite among the others, except for his half-brothers, and even then, even Gawain gets fed up with him sometimes. But his brothers will protect him with everything they are and everything they have. Despite a villainous and dark nature, Mordred knows when things are dire and will help the others if they are in danger and no one else can. Morgan and Anna both school him in magic and his skill in it makes him a very valuable player, especially when it comes to range fighting or picking off enemies with conjurations or spells from behind. He is as equally matched in swordsmanship as he is in magic.

 **Parents:** Lot (Adopted), Morgause/Anna

 **Siblings:** Gawain, Gaheris, Soredamer, Agravaine, Gareth, Loholt

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Uriens, Nentres, Arthur, Cador

 **Aunts:** Morgan, Elaine of Garlot

 **Cousins:** Ywain, Yvain, Constantine, Galeschin

44

 **Morholt/Morhaus:** The solemn and dark chief guard of Worcestershire, Morholt is King Anguish of Ireland's champion. Annually, a tribute of three hundred youths and maidens are given into slavery to Ireland for Anguish's victory in a long bygone battle, and Morholt is deigned to enforce it by any means necessary. Tristan despises Morholt even more than he despises King Anguish, but at the same time the two share a mutual respect and a bond. Tristan has sworn to kill Morholt one day, for Tristan despises the slavery and advocates against it. Morholt has accepted Tristan's vow, and this in turn stuns Tristan. Thus begins their complex bond that wavers between arch enemies and father-son.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

* * *

 _ **P**_

45

 **Palamedes:** The words to describe the Saracen Knight are poet laurite. He loves beauty and poetry and is something of a bard and author, which makes him an excellent compliment to Lamorak. Needless to say, the two hit it off immediately and became best friends in short order. They are both considered quite odd and eccentric by the others, and this is another thing over which they bond. Palamedes speaks in poetic phrases, but in stark contrast to his gentle nature he can fight brutally, the fourth greatest knight at the table. He has been threatened with bullying before, but few go through with it. If they do, they are reminded swiftly just why they shouldn't. Being a prince of Babylon, he has the armies of his father at his beck and call, and let's just say the Saracen armies aren't far behind their prince and king in prowess.

 **Parents:** Esclabor

 **Siblings:** Florine (Sister), Safir, Segwarides

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

46

 **Pelleas of the Islands:** Pelleas is easy to get along with and eager to please. Very eager. He bends to peer pressure far too easily for his own good, and if not for his best friend Safir, and the fact even the jousting team doesn't have the heart to take advantage of him or let others do so, he would have been in deep you-know-what long ago. Safir is the guy he'll listen to before anyone else, so even when people attempt to use Pelleas, Safir's around to counter it. He thinks Pelleas is like a puppy. Not that Safir minds. Slaves are always good, after all. Pelleas is also oblivious, or seemingly oblivious, to things like threats or insults.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

47

 **Pellinore of the Islands and Listinoise:** The casual principal of Worcestershire, and among the mightiest of knights ever, King Pellinore is a favorite teacher of Arthur's. He is a bird lover like no other, especially when it comes to pelicans, whom his name is similar to. He has a way with birds and is fascinated by them almost obsessively. When it comes to dealing with feathered friends—or enemies—he has you covered. When it comes to using flying devices, Pellinore is your man. He is a strong believer in the concept of people one day flying in big metal birds. Of course, the other teachers and the students laugh at his theories, but he sticks by them. He also has a tendency to sleep around… a lot… In fact, Dinadan picked up a few tricks from him. He is the father of Aglovale, Dornar, Tor, Lamorak, Dindrane, Percival, and Gurgi. Sadly, Gurgi died very young. Pellinore is a close personal friend of the Babylonian king Esclabor, their relationship echoing the relationship between their sons Lamorak and Palamedes. He also has an ongoing rivalry with King Bagdemagus.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Aglovale, Dornar, Tor, Lamorak, Gurgi (Deceased), Dindrane, Percival

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

48

 **Percival:** Gentle, soft-hearted, and loyal, Percival is always ready to back up even his worst enemy. He is loyal, but timid and naïve, which leaves him an open target to Kay, much like Ermind. Given who his siblings and father are, though, and the fact the guy strikes with the speed of a snake, stings rapidly like a wasp, and uses a blade coated with a burning but non-lethal poison, Kay doesn't normally get very far. He becomes one of the [REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_.

 **Parents:** Pellinore

 **Siblings:** Aglovale, Dornar, Tor, Lamorak, Gurgi (Deceased), Dindrane

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Dodinel/Pinel

49

 **Petipace of Winchelsea:** Petipace led an ill-fated rebellion against the wicked king Rience/Ryons and paid a hefty price. Five years imprisoned, the men who couldn't fit into the secret dungeon executed in front of his eyes and the eyes of their loved ones. He himself was made an example of, tortured and marred. Half his face is burned, leaving horrible scars, and he was left to die along with his men when the prison began to collapse into the river. He managed to survive, heard his men dying of starvation or dehydration begging for a savior. None came. He was soon to join them when Arthur stumbled upon him with a little entourage and rescued him from his fate. He was given refuge in Worcestershire and after he'd recovered well enough, give a job there as well as the school's Scribe and Crier. Little is known about him, he keeps his past to himself for fear of reopening his mental scars, but he is a skilled and competent fighter, has experience against Rience, and his intel on the man is invaluable.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

* * *

 _ **S**_

50

 **Safir/Safere:** Brisk, and to the point, Safir is extremely safety conscious and protective, especially over his best friend Pelleas, who he spotted as a pushover from the moment he saw him. Pelleas continuously proved himself to be in need of watching, so Safir developed a brotherly sort of protective instinct over him. Pelleas was the first student in Worcestershire to reach out to him and try to befriend him, the first one to make him feel like maybe he could endure the place and maybe someone wanted him there, and for that Safir became eternally grateful. Pelleas is able to pull Safir out of his comfort zone when no one else can, even getting him to on occasion ignore his safety standards if the situation calls for it.

 **Parents:** Esclabor

 **Siblings:** Palamedes, Florine, Segwarides

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

51

 **Sagremore les Impetuous/Desirous:** As his name implies, Sagremore is very impetuous which serves as a serious detriment to him. He is a virtuous but hot-tempered knight who fights ragefully and furiously, which puts his life at risk many times over. He often enters into a frenzy and when he comes down from it regularly feels ill and hungry. Epileptic fits aren't uncommon either, which leads to Kay giving him the nickname Morte Jeune, or dead youth. His hair-trigger temper leads to his sometimes having to be physically restrained from attacking anyone who's insulted him. At the same time the guy has a lot of hidden charm, and his beauty's nothing to scoff at either. For some reason the ladies love him, and he's all about seducing the ladies right back. While not on the level of Dinadan—he generally waits for girls to approach him rather than approach them himself—he's a close runner-up. He's athletic and highly competitive, and he strives to be the best at whatever it is he does.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Dinas, Claire

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

52

 **Segwarides:** A nerd, a geek, call him whatever you want to, but one thing can't be disputed. The guy is magic with gizmos, gadgets, and wheels. While not a genius to Lucan's level, he doesn't need to be. His imagination is wild enough that he can draft up plans for inventions and commission Bleoberis, Lucan, and or Griflet to bring them to life. Plus, he's wicked driving coaches or pretty well anything that can be driven. Hector and Segwarides bond with each other over their shared enthusiasm of vehicles and roleplaying games. Segwarides, Gures/Gary, and Xavier Ironside bond over roleplaying as well, but his best friend of all of them is Arthur's cousin Hoel. Segwarides has a bad habit of talking on endlessly of things others have no interest in, something only Hoel can deal with as usually he shares the passion.

 **Parents:** Esclabor

 **Siblings:** Palamedes, Florine, Safir

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

53

 **?**

54

 **?**

* * *

 _ **T**_

55

 **Tor:** Tor is a knight of few words. He prefers to let his actions speak for him. Solemn, loyal, and cautious, he keeps promises he makes and never bullied Arthur, but he didn't help him either. Just watched if anything. He is a strong fighter both with weapons and physically. He is powerfully built and likes to do a lot of inner reflection and meditation. Many of the others brand him a weirdo, but they let him be for the most part. He has a lot of siblings they'd have to contend with should they cross him, after all; namely Aglovale, Dornar, Lamorak, and Percival, to say nothing of their cousin Pinel aka Dodinal.

 **Parents:** Pellinore, Vayshoure

 **Siblings:** Aglovale, Dornar, Lamorak, Gurgi (Deceased), Dindrane, Percival

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Pinel/Dodinal

56

 **Tristan/Trystram de Lyones:** Serious to a point that surpasses most any other knight, Tristan, though a member of the jousting team, has no use for joking or bullying. He takes almost everything seriously. Sometimes the things he says come out as a threat or an insult, but it's never how he means them. He states blunt truth more often than not, and sometimes that truth comes out sounding wrong. Certain other knights, taking his seriousness as a challenge, continually try to break him or make him laugh. It never works, and usually they're warned by others not to even try.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Mark

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

* * *

 _ **Y**_

57

 **Yvain/Owain the Batard of Cavaliot/the Adventurous:** Yvain is Uriens's youngest son and Ywain's half-brother. Morgan is not a fan of him given, you know, he's not her kid, and so he is a tender spot for her. Being the only one not blood related to Ywain's cousins, only to Ywain, he often feels very left out and alone and unloved. The others reassure him constantly that he is family, blood or not, especially Ywain who loves him dearly, but Yvain still tends to get down on himself. He does have a blood cousin, though. Calogrenant, through his mother's side. Calogrevance is always there to make him feel a bit better when he starts getting so down on himself that his brother and other cousins can't talk him out of it. Calogrenant knows what buttons to push to make him feel better, and Yvain is grateful for Calogrevance's support. So is Uriens for that matter.

 **Parents:** Uriens, Morgan (Adoptive)

 **Siblings:** Ywain (Half)

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Lot, Nentres, Arthur, Cador

 **Aunts:** Morgause/Anna, Elaine of Garlot

 **Cousins:** Gawain, Gaheris, Soredamer, Agravaine, Gareth, Mordred, Loholt, Calogrenant

58

 **Ywain/Owen, son of Uriens:** Ywain is lazy. Enough said. He likes to lay back and watch others work. Why do it himself when others will, after all? A kid of very few words, really. He can't be bothered with the effort of talking much. When he does, he can be quite rude. He picks it up from Kay, despite not being related by blood given he's Morgan and Uriens' son. He's not exactly what you'd call reliable, but when things get tough, Ywain steps up. When Ywain steps up, few can even hope to match his work ethic. He is among Arthur's favorite nephews, having believed Arthur was king the moment it was told to him. He's admired and kept a keen and curious eye on his uncle ever since.

 **Parents:** Uriens, Morgan

 **Siblings:** Yvain (Half)

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Lot, Nentres, Arthur, Cador

 **Aunts:** Morgause/Anna, Elaine of Garlot

 **Cousins:** Gawain, Gaheris, Soredamer, Agravaine, Gareth, Mordred, Loholt


	2. Gathering of the Houses

**_King Arthur's Knights_**

Book 4: The Dolorous Tower

(A/N: So this was originally going to be the first story in this series. At least the first couple parts, more or less. Been changed a lot to fit in with being the fourth instead, but still. Not very happy with this chapter, personally, but I wanted it out of the way so I could get into the body of the story.

Also there's a slight correction from my previous story. Between Palamedes, Safir, and Segwarides, Safir is the youngest brother and Segwarides is the middle. Events of the previous story still worked like they did though. Will change it around a bit when I go back over this series and revamp and refine it. Also there will be an attendance taken later in the story, when the dorm houses all meet up. There'll be a whole bunch of names spewed out. None of them you need to worry about remembering like at all. Maybe later in the book, but if it's important enough to bother remembering at all I'll outline it again. Odds are they won't be of any significance. I did it more for realism than pertinence.)

 _Act 1: Game of Houses_

Gathering of the Houses

Once upon a time the hardest battle we had to worry about fighting was the Game of Houses competition in Worcestershire. A battle royale between each of the dorm houses with only one rule. No killing. If only real war abided by that one rule… I'm smirking like an idiot now, because looking back I honestly marvel at how we managed to survive that competition, high school, and each other for so long. There was so much bad blood and rivalry going on that you'd think we would have murdered one another first chance we got. The teachers weren't even much better off, really. They had their own little issues to work out as well!

…How did we survive high school for so long as enemies, only to end up killing one another off as friends…?

It was the Game of Houses that sparked the fire that would become our friendship. It started out like any other with a few changes, but nothing drastic… Then everything went to you-know-what. Just like that it went from a simple friendly school challenge, to a whole new level of dark crap we never even saw coming that totally blindsided us… How the flip did we survive it when our every word and action towards each other was so pathetically counterproductive that it was just sad? Guess you'll have to wait and see my next memories, coming to a theatre near you. Dryly I smirk. I hate my life. Rather, I hate what it became.

… I'm starting to feel cold… I hate dying…

Past

"And thenceforth the Game of Houses shalt commence within the month, wherefore all Houses in Worcestershire that shall assay the challenge will then compete and determine forthwith what braved youths recline within our halls, and determine also forthwith whichsoever of the houses is greatest," Petipice read out to the assembly as the students listened curiously.

Arthur, sitting with a small group of his friends and or acquaintances, whatever, listened in vague annoyance, unimpressed with the announcement. "What a load of bull," Balin said, rolling his eyes. "Just another way to get the boarding houses to go to war. Like we don't have enough drama and rivalry in this dump."

"I'd hoped this would disappear under Pellinore," Balan agreed.

"In its defense, it's a really important test of skill for knights in training," Kay said. "I mean, we get to use real weapons, fight in mock battles with those weapons, work on strategy and survival… It's big."

"We'll give you that, but they could have at least reworded the speech to make it seem less like, you know, full on war between houses," Alymere, aka Astomar, said, shrugging.

"Look at the bright side. It's something to do and something to train for. It's been over a month since anything particularly exciting happened here," Bedivere said. The last incident had been the goblins. Now all the children who'd come back were enduring some serious therapy with King Bors and other teachers—mainly Bors given he was the school councillor at the end of the day—and were slowly getting readjusted to things. Some of them were coming along well, some of them not so much. Generally, the children who'd had a support network to come back to were doing good. Which meant Geraint's two brothers, Sagremore's sister and brother, and Guinevere's sister were all doing the best. Next best were the children who'd had a support group to come back to, but whose support group wasn't constantly around. After them were the ones who'd come back to no one. Needless to say, _they_ were having it really, really tough right now. _Really_ tough…

"Maybe," Dagonet agreed. He looked at Petipace once again, who was reading through the next part of the announcement before declaring it. "It was really nice King Pellinore offered Petipace asylum here. And a job." Goodness knew the guy couldn't go back to Rience's kingdom. Ever. Not unless he wanted to be real gutsy. Or real stupid.

"Kind of resentful myself. The ladies are going nuts over him and taking all the attention away from us guys," Dinadan joked. "You'd think the battle scars and burns would be a turnoff given how badly they've marred him up, but they're wild for them."

"Don't remind us," Dagonet teased back, smirking.

"This year's challenge will have the following changes instilled: Only a select number from each house will be chosen, by us, to participate. Three teachers for each house will be chosen as supervisors. Regarding the Accomodations for Young Pages, they will not stand alone this year, as they have in passed ones, to be used as fodder. This year they will be divided up among the other houses as we see it fit." There was some measure of applause, mostly from the little pages of said Accomodations for Young Pages, who were ecstatic to hear this news. "Now go forth, ye young Squires and Pages, and pepare thineselves for the grand event. Dismissed," Petipace finished. He rolled up the scroll and retreated to the other staff present. The students began to file out.

"So… Guess we're going to be split up then," Arthur said. Half his friend group was in a different house, after all.

"Yep. And at that point, friendship doesn't count," Balin teased. "No mercy."

"Fine then. You're on," Arthur replied, smiling. "May the best house win."

"IAK House is going to destroy Worcestershire, I hope you know that," Dinadan said to Kay with a sly smile.

"Yeah right. We have some of the best fighters in this whole school," Kay answered. "Lancelot, Tristan, Lamorak, and Palomides anyone?"

"You also have some of the most useless. Lucan, Safir, and Arthur anyone?" Dinadan replied.

"Arthur can hold his own. I should know. I fought golems with him, remember?" Daniel said.

"Oh, Dan, forgot you were there," Dinadan said, looking over at his brother who had, in fact, been there the whole time.

Daniel frowned. "Thanks," he flatly replied.

"He's just teasing you," Brunor said, catching up with his siblings and giving Arthur a wary glare.

"No, I really did forget," Dinadan sheepishly said.

"Really? Our own brother?" Brunor asked, unimpressed.

"In my defense…" Dinadan began.

"You have no defense," Daniel deadpanned. Dinadan winced and grinned innocently.

Brunor rolleded his eyes hopelessly. "Din, Dan, come on. We have training and planning to do before we all end up separated."

"Right behind you," Dinadan agreed, smirking mischievously.

KAK

In Worcestershire Academy, there were ten boarding houses in all. Five for boys and five for girls. Each house held a fair number of students each, as well as the dorm fathers, or mothers. These dorm parents were supervisors and authority figures, meant to protect and keep an eye on the students residing in their houses. The first and oldest dorm house on campus was Worcestershire Accomodations, or WA, which had been sponsored by the academy at its founding. The next most prominent house was the Irish Accommodations of Knighthood, or IAK, which had been sponsored by King Anguish of Ireland. The Accommodations for Young Pages, or AYP, was the third major player and one of only two boarding houses not named for a sponsor. Then there was Green Knight Accommodations, or GKA, sponsored by Sir Pertilope, aka Bertilak. The final boarding house for boys was Red Knight Accommodations, or RKA, sponsored by Sir Permones.

The sororities were Leodegrance Accommodations, sponsored by King Leodegrance; Corbenic House, sponsored by the king of Corbenic; Accommodations for Young Damsels, which was the other boarding house not named for a sponsor; Titangel House, founded by Queen Igraine; and Astalot House, sponsored by the Isle of Astalot. They would not be participating in the Game of Houses. They had their own special challenge catered to them, which was kept a closely guarded secret. No male in the whole school, say for maybe Pellinore, Bagdemagus, and Galehaut—which was tentative at best—knew what it entailed.

Rivalries were encouraged between the boarding houses, and so when it came to competition during the Game of Houses, and other events like it, each one was treated like it was a totally separate school. WA believed themselves greater than the rest and thought themselves favored by the school since the school itself had founded them. The 'Capital' of Worcestershire Academy, they called themselves. Unfortunately, under Pynchley most of the faculty had tended to agree, and it was in WA that many of the best jocks and most popular students resided. To be fair, among them were also some of the greatest losers and most prominent loners—there were no class distinctions, and the popular and rich were often grouped with the losers and the poor—but ultimately jocks and popular students tended to outnumber underdogs. Under Pellinore, however, no favoritism was shown. Needless to said, WA's entitlement was starting to wane. Unfortunately, the changing scene of things had made the students bolder in forming rivalries amongst _themselves_ , warping the whole setup into some sort of twisted civil war that was more convoluted than it had already been. Needless to say, the faculty was bracing for one hell of a ride come the Game of Houses…

KAK

Arthur sat in study hall alone at lunch, munching on an apple as he read various tomes he needed to examine for a couple of quizzes. Once upon a time he could have studied in the dining hall. These days, though, alone time in the cafeteria wasn't so common. Which he was usually grateful for, just not today. So he'd come here to study. He was… semi-regretting it, actually. It was quieter than he'd been used to as of late. Uncomfortably so.

"Arthur?" a voice asked.

Arthur glanced curiously up and blinked in slight surprise. "Uh, Geraint. Hi," he replied. "Um, what's up?"

Geraint hesitated a moment. "Can I… sit?" he asked.

"Okay?" Arthur replied.

"Thanks," Geraint said, sitting. He pulled a tome out from a bag and set it down, opening it. He just stared at it, though. Didn't read. Arthur raised an eyebrow curiously before going back to his own tome. "Hey Arthur? I just… I wanted to say thanks. For… for what you did for me and my brothers. I mean, I know it wasn't all you but… but you played a bigger part in it than I think you're even aware of. If you hadn't spoken up I don't… I don't think they would have hesitated to wipe all the goblins out, and then…" He trailed off. He didn't want to finish that thought. "Even _I_ wasn't sure it should be done… If not for you, my brothers… Well, you know."

"Yeah. I know. You're welcome," Arthur said, expression softening. "How are they anyway?"

"Erec! Erec!" a frantic little voice called. Geraint looked over. Darting towards him was a frightened looking little boy followed by another calmer, but still visibly scared, little boy.

"Hi Ermind," Geraint said, smiling over at the one who'd called his name. "Dywel," he said to the other.

"Where'd you go?" Ermind asked, voice sounding a bit weepy.

"I didn't go far. I'm right here, see?" Geraint said as Ermind climbed onto his lap and cuddled into him. The other, Dywel, looked torn between wanting to join his sibling on Geraint's lap or just play it cool. Soon, though, he also climbed onto Geraint's lap, trying to seem nonchalant about it.

"Who's this?" Dywel asked, pointing at Arthur.

Geraint looked over. "This? Don't you remember? It's Arthur," Erec replied.

"The loser Lancelot picks on all the time?" Dywel asked.

"Dywel, watch it," Geraint warned, frowning. "You wouldn't be here right now if not for him."

"He has pretty hair," Dywel said, fixating on Arthur's semi-lengthy hair. Arthur blinked blankly at the kid and grimaced slightly, self-consciously brushing his hair back over his shoulders. "I'd style that."

"If Raoul tries to pack me into one more tight-fitting, frilly-collared suit, I might be taking you up on that," Arthur replied.

"Uncle Raoul?" Dywel asked, perking up a bit.

"Yeah. He's my palace stylist," Arthur replied.

"Palace?" Ermind asked, curious.

"He's the high-king, as it turns out," Geraint said, smirking at his brothers.

"The high-king chose to save _us_?!" Ermind exclaimed excitedly, eyes bugging wide as he stared at Arthur in fascination. "How did you? _Why_ did you?" Geraint looked to Arthur curiously, silently asking permission to tell the tale.

"Knock yourself out," Arthur said, shrugging. Erec smiled at him and turned back to his brothers, telling them the tale as they listened in rapt attention, fascinated. A story about a young king who, when faced with a dark threat, called upon rulers from all walks of life, both enemy and friend, and gathered them together and spoke to them of the threat they all faced. A king who, when they bayed for genocide, played for mercy for the sake of two little boys, and many other children, who might yet be saved from the curse put upon them. A king who enlisted the help of a wizard, a bandit king, and a fairy maiden who, guised as a mortal, had fallen in love with a young squire. A young squire who also offered his aid, as well as the aid of many of his companions. A king who won the support of a rival ruler not once, but twice, and the support of many other rivals. A king who bargained with a bandit chief and a elfin king in his attempts to protect a fortress and return the lost children of the goblins to mortality…

The way Erec told the tale, Arthur could barely believe it was _him_ Geraint was talking about. In fact, it took him a minute to realize it wasn't just some made up story. And everything was accurate. Arthur just… hadn't known how it had come across until hearing it like _this_. Suffice it to say, Geraint made it sound epic. Arthur felt like he'd just gone with the flow. He'd done what he needed to, to spare as many lives as possible, and that was it. A few gambles had paid off, nothing big. Now that it was put into context? It suddenly felt like he'd done a lot more. Kind of made him feel way better about himself. Ermind was totally lost in the story from the first sentence, staring at Arthur in total awe. It kind of made Arthur feel self-conscious again, and he shifted a bit uneasily. Ermind looked like he was bubbling over with questions, but timidity won out and he didn't ask them. Soon enough, Geraint's story ended.

"Wow. You made that event sound awesome," Arthur said to Erec.

"For us it _was_ ," Geraint replied, smiling gratefully at him. "You wanna take a break from studying and help me watch over these two? Or would you rather I helped you prepare for whatever tests you have coming up?"

"Uh, either's fine," Arthur replied. "Um… thanks Geraint." It wasn't so silent anymore, now that Geraint and his brothers were there, and he found he kind of liked that a little better…

KAK

Bleoberis held the broken blade in his hands, looking dubious. "Can you fix it?" Kay asked him flat out.

Bleoberis looked up at him dubiously. "What's so special about dis piece'a crap?" he asked.

"Look, it's Arthur's. I owe him a favor for saving me from failing a pretty big exam from a few years back. When he pulled the sword from the stone. Never repaid him for that and this blade is pretty special to him and you owe me a favor anyway, so just answer the flipping question, you dumb brute," Kay replied. He gasped as Bleoberis seized him and growled, lifting him a bit off the ground. "Please?" Kay lamely covered, trying for an innocent grin.

Bleoberis harrumphed and put him down, looking at the sword again. "I can fix it," he finally said. "Got teached a few things by de lady who raised my cuz."

"Great. It's, uh, kind of enchanted?" Kay said. Bleoberis gave him an incredulous glare, eyes narrowing and frown deepening a bit. "What, you can't take the challenge."

"I can take it. Just gonna be a while," Bleoberis replied.

"How long is 'a while'?" Kay asked.

Bleoberis let out a drawn out half grunt half sigh. "Few weeks, prob'ly."

"Okay then. It's settled. Don't screw it up," Kay said. Bleoberis menaced him with a fist and he winced, putting up his hands in a pacifying gesture and backing off. He cleared his throat a bit awkwardly, turned, and walked away quickly. Bleoberis glared after him before tossing the blade pieces in a bag and throwing said bag over his shoulder.

Arthur lingered nearby, in hiding. When Kay came around, he asked, "Did he agree? Can he do it?"

"Yeah, he can manage. Might take a few weeks though," Kay replied.

Arthur groaned. "I need that blade for the Game of Houses, though!" he protested.

"Well tough luck, bro. You're gonna have to go off your own natural talent and a plain old sword now," Kay replied.

"Tough luck? This is your fault! You said you'd do this months ago!" Arthur protested.

"It slipped my mind, okay?! A lot of stuff started happening," Kay replied. "Look, I've got to get to practice. Go hang out with your friends or whatever they are or something. This is probably the last chance you'll have to be able to for a while. They separate the houses totally in the week or two leading up to the big competition. Even siblings are isolated from each other, let alone friends. And taught in that time that everyone except those who share their dorm house is an enemy." It was a tough time all around, when that happened. He hated it. They _all_ did. Pellinore had yet to figure out how to reverse that.

"Yeah, I guess," Arthur said with a sigh.

"I'll see you later," Kay said, waving and walking away.

"Bye," Arthur said after him in almost a grumble. Well, _this_ was the start of what promised to be a very, very long month. He was _not_ looking forward to it.

Two Weeks Later

"Alright, after IAK house has finished their meeting and discussion, the assembly hall is ours," Ector said to the boys of WA house. "Pellinore is gathering the children from AYP house that will be accompanying us. He'll meet us inside."

"Which of the brats are with us?" Lancelot questioned.

"You'll see soon enough," Ector replied. "Nobody that'll be too much of a surprise."

"Who's the third teacher coming along?" Tristan asked.

"The Keeper of the Courtyard—formerly the sword Caliburn—Meliot, aka Mariet, de Logres," Ector answered. Arthur winced at the thought of Caliburn, and the memoy of Excalibur. Well, at least Kay had finally gotten around to asking Bleoberis to fix the former. Excalibur was still locked away in a trunk somewhere. Arthur shifted a bit. He guessed he could get Excalibur, since Caliburn was out of commission, but he was still a bit… apprehensive, about it. Not that he didn't want it, it just… he wasn't sure he was ready for that much sword. Still, it couldn't hurt to take it out for a test spin, right? Maybe not. He'd see how this all panned out.

Just then Sir Meliot slipped out of the assembly hall. "Ector, they're out. It's time," he said.

"Alright, hop to it boys. I'll take attendance in there. Go on," Ector said. Quickly the boys entered the assembly hall on Ector's order and automatically got in line for attendance.

"Alymere," Ector said.

"S'up," Alymere replied.

"Arthur Pendragon," Ector said.

"Here," Arthur replied.

"Bedivere," Ector said.

"Here," Bedivere replied.

"Bleoberis de Ganis," Ector said.

"Cancha just look ta see if everyone's here?" Bleoberis asked, getting bored with this list.

Ector frowned at him then looked over the students, who all seemed to be wondering the same and seemed more than a little relieved Bleoberis had said it. "Fine, so be it," he relented. He looked at his list, scanning. "Bors de Ganis, check. Brunor le Noir, check. Dagonet, check. Degore, check. Gareth, check. Gawain, check. Hector de Maris, check. Kay le Senechal, check. Lamorak le Savage, check. Lancelot du Lac, check. Lionel de Ganis, check. Lucan, check. Palamedes, check. Pelleas, check. Safir, check. Tristan de Lyons, check. Alright. Everyone's here. At least, everyone who'll _be_ here is. Now, as established there will be three faculty members that will help keep a handle on you boys."

"We don't need babysitters!" Brunor protested immediately. Ector looked incredulously at him, then at the others. Brunor turned and winced. Bleoberis was lifting Dagonet off the ground and menacing him with a fist, Lancelot was heckling Arthur by constantly poking him and riling the king up. Various other mischief was happening amongst the group as well. "Guys!" Brunor shot. They turned to him and quickly returned to normal, putting on innocent expressions. Brunor turned back to Ector. "See?" he said. Ector looked less than impressed. Brunor grimaced and backed down sheepishly.

Just then the doors opened. The students looked over as the principal entered. "Hello boys, ready for the big competition?" Pellinore asked, smiling.

"Is this all the babysitters now?" Brunor flatly asked.

Pellinore frowned at him. "Check that attitude, Brunor. As to your question, yes. Yes, it is. At least for _your_ unruly group. As established, each house will have three 'babysitters' to keep a handle on you rowdy little bra… brilliant young men." None of the boys looked impressed with his lame attempt at a cover-up. Pellinore cleared his throat, turning away and pretending to be interested in something else.

"Which of the little ones are coming with us?" Lionel asked.

"You mean besides you, Hector, and Bohort?" Kay nipped.

"We're not little!" Hector protested.

"BS. The oldest of you is what? Thirteen?" Kay shot.

"Stay down," Lancelot warned Kay, frowning at him. Kay sneered at Lancelot but backed down nonetheless.

"Control yourselves, boys," Ector said, starting to sound a bit testy. "Things are in danger of escalating now."

"Not a surprise," Meliot flatly said, rolling his eyes hopelessly.

Pellinore turned to the doors. "Little ones come in," he called out to whatever children were behind that door. The door opened, after a couple seconds, and a small group shuffled inside. "Line up," Pellinore directed the children. They did so, standing a little nervously but also excitedly. "There's your answer as to the boys coming with us," the principal said, smiling at the older ones while gesturing to the younger. He turned to the children again. "Answer when I call your names. Loholt."

"Here," Loholt said.

"Mordred," Pellinore said.

"Use your eyes or give them to someone who will," Mordred replied quietly.

Pellinore frowned at him curiously. Where had _that_ come from, he wondered? Ugh, just watch this be one of 'those days' for the boy. He shook his head hopelessly. "Yvain," he continued.

"Here! I'm here!" Yvain said eagerly, waving his hand frantically like he was trying to attract attention.

Arthur pushed it down. "We see you, Yvain," he said, smirking.

"At least _someone_ does," Yvain replied.

"Don't get down on yourself, kid," Gawain concernedly said. Ugh, Morgan had probably been cold-shouldering him again.

"And finally Ywain," Pellinore finished.

"I'm here too," Ywain replied.

"Uh, excuse me! I have a question about safety," Safir said, raising a hand.

"Well save it for the camping trip, my boy," Ector cheerily replied, smiling.

"Wait, what?!" Arthur exclaimed, instantly alarmed. Most of the others groaned.

"Really dad? _That's_ why there are so many teachers coming along this year?" Kay excitedly asked.

Hector leapt up eagerly. "It's going to be overnight?! Yes! I can practice being a knight for real!"

"Yeah! I love camping. Hiking and camp fire stories are awesome!" Bors agreed. "We're so in!" He high-fived his cousin.

"I'm worried the young ones will be hurt," Safir protested. "And by young ones I don't mean just the four children. I also mean Lionel, Bors, and Hector." The three let out dismayed protests immediately, which Safir ignored. So maybe they weren't as much of a risk as the little ones—toddlers and camping didn't sound safe _at_ all—but it was still taking a big chance.

"We can handle ourselves, Safir, we can! Don't worry," Yvain insisted.

Lucan backed them, saying, "I wouldn't suggest doubting them. They've given _me_ quite a challenge at times. Talent so refined at that young an age is indeed an unquestionable rarity."

"Their giving you a challenge is a surprise?" Arthur incredulously asked.

Lucan looked icily over at Arthur. "Do you desire to find out, 'Artie'?" he retorted in defense. For goodness sakes he wasn't incompetent at fighting! He just preferred more cerebral pursuits.

"Silence in the barracks!" Degore put in sharply. He looked at Arthur. "Sir, permission to speak sir?"

"Seriously?" Arthur asked incredulously. "We talked about this man."

"Sir, Lucan may be scrawny, but he can handle a spear and blade," Degore continued, ignoring him. The young king rolled his eyes doubtfully.

Quickly interrupting, Sir Ector declared, "They'll be alright. There are enough of us watching, and it's likely one or two more will join us at the site, but if you want confirmation, I'm sure Lancelot and Gawain can vouch for the boys."

"Mordred and Loholt can come," Gawain confirmed. "And Ywain and Yvain."

"Lancelot, please!" Lionel begged.

"Yous ain't gonna caves inta dat, is ya?" Bleoberis asked, pointedly putting Lancelot on the spot.

"Forget _them_. Why are we bringing tardy Artie?" Gareth insulted.

"Shove it, Gareth! I am _not_ helpless!" Arthur shot.

"Oh no? Prove it! Come at me, I dare you! I'll just grab Agravaine and we'll hang you from the basketball net like those loser nerds Xavier Ironside and Gures did. Or Gary. Whatever the hell he's calling himself these days," Gareth challenged. The others snickered at the memory except for a choice few, among them Kay, Tristan, Gawain, Palamedes, Safir, and Lancelot. Lancelot was still seething towards Bleoberis for putting him on the spot, thinking of ways to tell him off. Finally, though, he gave up.

"I'll show you, you piece of…" Arthur began.

"Enough!" Sir Meliot bellowed. They all instantly shut up. Dropping once more to a calmer tone, the keeper of the courtyard went up to Lancelot, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Do your cousins and half-brother go or not?" he asked gently.

Lancelot looked to the three boys, uncertain. If he said yes, the guys would get it into their idiot heads that he was soft. He'd probably end up like Arthur, though to be fair the guys had proven themselves unexpectedly loyal during that whole bandit and goblin fiasco. If he said no, his relatives wouldn't talk to him for a week. Well, maybe Bohort, he was all about forgiveness lately, but not Hector or Lionel. Suddenly Astomar, Alymere, said in his carefree way, "Come on, let the kids go, Lance. They're good enough. Besides, if we're dragging toddlers along we might as well bring preteens."

"Hey, ya doesn't gets ta put down ma relations!" Bleoberis protested immediately.

"Then next time rethink when you decide to pipe up, you moron," Brunor said, rolling his eyes at his friend. "You had to see that coming when you started bugging Lancelot and putting them down yourself." It was all but a brightly painted sign screaming 'open season', after all.

"He doesn't see _much_ coming," Gareth bit.

"You wanna get beat, Gar?" Bleoberis growled, Quickly Gawain moved between his sibling and Bleoberis, glaring warningly.

Lancelot was secretly grateful to Alymere for stepping in, though he wouldn't likely admit it. He got the feeling, though, that he didn't need to. Alymere knew exactly what he was doing. It was rare he lent a hand these days, but Lancelot would take what he got. Alymere liked Hector, Bohort, and Lionel anyway. The jouster rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh. "Alright already. When do we leave?" he said, putting on a show for the others.

"Now," Ector declared.

"What?!" the students exclaimed. They'd just learned about the camping bit though!

"Surprise," Pellinore said with a smirk. "Challenge one, going in poorly prepared. Emergencies happen, after all. Don't worry, we're equipped should things go wrong." The boys all exchanged grimaces. That wasn't reassuring.

KAK

The next thing the students knew, they were standing in front of the stables clad in armour. Lionel pushed back up his helmet, annoyed when it slid down. Bleoberis took it, plopping it on his cousin's head properly. Lionel smiled up at him. Arthur was in shock still, but the others were quickly becoming excited.

"Alright, let's get going!" Bedivere insisted.

"Wait, does everyone have their shields?" Safir asked.

"Mine dear brother, all is well. Hasten not to become safety conscious upon we mortal wretches now," Palamides assured his sibling with an affectionate smirk. He was too late.

"Helmets in place, armour tight but not too tight, horses and saddles checked?" Safir rattled.

"Oh for Pete's sake, it's fine!" Kay barked, annoyed. Safir jumped.

" _Thank_ you!" Gareth said to Kay.

"Don't worry, Safir, I checked everything. Is there anything else you want me to do?" the eager to please Pelleas asked.

"Well…" Safir began.

"Dude, chill, it's no big," Astomar assured Safir with a grin.

"I suppose… In that case, let's go," Safir said, loosening up a little. He turned to his friend with a smile. "It's fine, Pelleas."

"Whatever you guys say. Or want!" Pelleas remarked.

"Oh, go jump off a bridge," Arthur muttered, annoyed by the eager attitude.

"Which one?" Pelleas obliviously asked.

Arthur looked at him in disbelief. Well, it was the most unquestioning obedience he'd gotten since becoming King. He guessed he could let it slide. "Never mind," he replied. He looked over the other members chosen from out of Worcestershire house. "Well, aren't _we_ a strange bunch?" he wryly remarked.

"Arthur, if no one asked you, it's best to keep quiet," Tristan remarked in a serious tone, no hint of threat or insult in his voice; only warning, which Arthur found weird, but then Tristan was, well, Tristan.

"Hey, leave the guy alone," Hector half-heartedly defended.

"Shut it, Hector," Brunor ordered.

"Don't insult my cousin, Brunor!" Lionel shot.

"Technically, it was not in fact an insult," Lucan stated.

"Enough already!" Lancelot ordered.

"The babysitters are coming," Brunor said suddenly, catching sight of the teachers before anyone else.

"Attention!" Degore barked. They lined up, standing straight.

KAK

The adults approached, riding their horses and towing others behind them for the students. "Ah, what noble beasts these be," Palamedes said.

"I've been ridin' around on a horse with no name," Lamorak sang.

"I'm pretty sure they have names, Lamorak," Arthur bit. Lamorak frowned, about to reply, when the teachers reached them.

"Here you are, boys," Pellinore said as he, Sir Ector, and Sir Meliot reached them, handing over the reins of the steeds. "When we reach the site, we'll go into more detail about what's happening."

"These horses are beautiful," Dagonet softly said.

"Hey, is ya gettin' gushy? I'm gonna have ta beat yous down wit' Artie, Safir, Pelleas, Lamorak, and Palamedes if yous is," Bleoberis remarked, punching his hand. Dagonet frowned but said nothing.

"You'll have to get by me first," Tristan warned Bleoberis as he took a horse.

"By us both, dude. Jester or not, I won't stand idly by and let others fight my battles for me," Dagonet said.

"I can offer my services to fend him off as well," Gawain intervened.

Okay, Arthur was finding a whole new level of respect for Gawain, Tristan, and Dagonet again. He'd never really noticed Dagonet before this whole school thing had started back up, honestly. Now he sort of wished he _had_. Well, at least he wasn't the _only_ underdog in Worcestershire; cough, cough, Lamorak, Palamedes, Dagonet, Safir, Lucan, Lionel, and probably a few more that he could have named but didn't care to. So why, then, had _he_ always been the only one who got pushed around? Or had that all just been his imagination? Pushing any thoughts of newfound respect away, he tried to focus on prepping his horse.

"I've got your back, Bleoberis, don't worry," Brunor assured.

"Yo, Dagonet, let's ditch these dudes," Astomar said, nimbly leaping onto his horse.

"With you all the way," Dagonet said, getting onto his own steed.

"Not so fast!" Pellinore sharply said. The two froze. "You will stay behind _me_. Sir Meliot and will linger in the middle of you and Sir Ector will take up the rear. I warn you now, we won't stand for any misdemeanours."

"Oh come on!" the boys all chimed.

"You heard him, now get on your horses and let's go," Ector ordered.

"And remember, we're watching you," Meliot warned.

KAK

The event would take place in Far Far Away. During the boat ride they mostly were able to avoid each other. Once they landed, though? Not so much. The group trode together down the road, heading towards the forest. "Quit crowding me Alymere," Hector sharply said to Astomar, whose horse was brushing his own.

"Oh suck it up," Alymere retorted. "I'm not even close to you."

" _This_ is crowding," Mordred said, purposely making his horse run into Astomar's, who in turn bumped Hector's. Hector's horse whinnied in fear as it lost its footing. Hector cried out, but luckily the horse got its balance back.

"Mordred, back off!" Lancelot angrily threatened.

"Methinks Lancelot du Lac is getting soft," Mordred sneered.

"Would _you_ fight him?" Loholt challenged his adoptive brother.

Mordred looked back at Lancelot but said nothing. "Don't talk big if you're not going to go through with it, kiddo," Gareth said with a smirk.

"You _haven't_?" Mordred challenged.

"I'm not a small child trying to pick a fight with a guy four times his age and size," Gareth replied. Mordred blinked up at his brother wide-eyed, and looked uneasily at Lancelot, who smirked wickedly at him. Mordred cringed and moved closer to Gawain's horse. Gawain went insta protective and shot Lancelot a 'back off' look.

"Enough out of ya dweebs, or I'm gonna come over dere with Brunor and bash ya!" Bleoberis called to them from behind.

"Like hell you will," Alymere retorted.

"You tempting us, Astomar?" Brunor questioned.

"Stop fighting," Bedivere pled.

"I'm sorry, do you want a piece of it too, Bedivere?" Breunor snidely asked.

"Oh, he's _so_ scared. What are you gonna do, Breunor? The teachers are right here," Arthur said, frowning at him.

"Hey, no one…" Breunor began.

"Silence in the barracks!" Degore ordered.

"Guard your tongue, Degore, or you might lose it," Mordred said, frowning.

"Mordred, you have an inexplicable tendency to get on everyone's nerves!" Lucan shot.

"Hey, I've told yous, no big words. I can't get dem," Bleoberis complained.

"You don't get _much_ ," Gareth bit. Gawain smirked and the two brothers high-fived.

"Enough! Mordred, that was a stupid stunt you pulled, making Alymere bump into Hector. His horse could have stepped in a hole and hurt its leg, toppling Hector onto the ground and potentially paralyzing him," Safir chastised.

"Your point?" Mordred asked.

"The attitude will be the death of you, Mordred," Tristan warned.

"Hey, I know, let's play the silent game! That way everyone will be happy," Pelleas desperately stated, hoping to break up the fight.

"There is a time to keep silent and a time to speak," Palamedes poetically agreed.

"Yeah. Let's get down to business," Lamorak sang, trying to calm down the impending fight.

"Are you morons _always_ like this?" Kay asked the others in a heated tone, finally speaking and looking at them in annoyance as his temper flared.

"Is that going to be a problem?" Gareth asked.

"Why you little…!" Kay began to retort furiously, turning his horse so sharply that Gareth quickly made his own retreat a few steps.

"Don't grace it with an answer, Kay, you'll make it worse," Bedivere interrupted.

"Enough!" Pellinore called angrily back at the students. "We're entering the forest now, so you all have to be quiet from here on in."

"We must listen for any potential danger," Meliot warned seriously, nodding in agreement with Pellinore.

"There might be trolls out here, so the next one to talk gets detention," Ector stated leaving no question about it. The boys fell reluctantly silent, listening to the sounds of the woods…

KAK

Some time later the group reached the site from which they'd branch out. It was a large clearing where five large tents were set up, bustling with activity. They gaped in shock. "Whoa… This is gonna be intense," Dagonet said.

"That it is," Pellinore replied, smiling. "This year it's a game of survival, strategy, and luck, and the first boarding house to complete it—and get a high score in each of the hidden elements involved, events you won't know until the end—is the winner and will receive a large donation for much needed assets to their Dormotory."

"Each participant this year was chosen based on factors such as skill, mental and physical health, strength, ability, perceived talent, etc. This is a big privilege for all of you," Meliot said.

"This year's competition is much more intense than it's been in the past. We're dealing with an all-star lineup this time," Pellinore added. "AYP, GKA, RKA…"

"And most importantly, IAK," Ector cut off. Most of them started grumbling and muttering bitterly, eyes narrowing.

"Um, why single out IAK?" Dagonet asked, totally confused. They'd seemed okay with one another.

"Because when it comes to competitions like this, IAK House is our biggest rival," Alymere replied.

"They're a remarkably prestigious boarding house with an astonishing track record. They're WA's biggest rivals and the tensions between us are high. We will do everything and anything to beat each other, no limits," Lucan explained. "Throw sibling and family rivalry into the mix and it becomes quite the spat." Most families had been split between the houses for just that purpose, when Pynchley was in office, and by the time he was out it was too deeply ingrained to bother rearranging.

"Vice-Principal Bagdemagus is overseeing IAK this year, along with the captain of Worcestershire's guards, Morholt. Morholt is a despicable and dark man, loyal dog of King Anguish of Ireland," Tristan darkly growled.

"Uh, what's Tristan's issue with Morholt?" Arthur asked Gawain.

"Tristan is a huge advocate of antislavery. Annually, the Irish King Anguish—and by extension his champion Morholt, who enforces it—receives a tribute of three hundred youths and maidens into slavery for some long ago won battle. Tristan is appalled by it," Gawain stated.

"No wonder," Arthur said, grimacing.

"The man deserves no less than death for the slaves he takes from us," Tristan stated, having overheard this.

"Dude, harsh enough?" Astomar incredulously asked.

"Harsh? I'm being lenient," Tristan replied.

"Your determination is admirable, young Tristan de Lyones," a voice said from behind.

Tristan scowled, turning sharply. "Sir Morholt," he icily greeted. "And King Bagdemagus too. Who else is with you? A man equally despicable as Morholt?"

"Actually, no," Bagdemagus said, frowning at Tristan. "I have King Bors with me. Then there are the three other teachers who'll be split between our two dorm houses. Extra supervisors to help keep the little children safe. Those are Petipace, Galehaut…" he began.

"Who _is_ in fact equally as despicable as Morholt," Arthur butted in.

"Back off, shrimp," Lancelot growled at Arthur.

"And…" Bagdemagus started again. He trailed off, though, hesitating with a grimace.

"Bagdemagus?" King Pellinore asked, a hint of coldness and suspicion in his tone. That kind of silence was _never_ a good sign from the man.

Bagdemagus shifted uncomfortably. "Um… King C-Caradoc Briefbas of Scotland? Th-the school physician?" he answered.

KAK

There was total silence on all sides. Bagdemagus shifted uncomfortably. "Carados… You mean one of the rebel kings trying to go to war with my son?" Ector icily repeated after a moment. "The one with no excuse?"

"I wrote to him informing him of the event and begging him to return, so he came back under a flag of truce for this event only. This isn't exactly a hazard free test, you know! We need him if something goes wrong. He's the best physician we have! So I sent for him and begged him to come back at least for a while. He did so on the condition he didn't end up supervising the children in Arthur's group," Bagdemagus said. "He'll be fine, I promise. I'll keep him on a tight leash!"

"Be sure you do, because if something happens to Arthur, there'll be blood," Ector warned darkly.

"So, tell me Bagdemagus, who are the youths _you_ chose to bring along?" Pellinore butted in, trying to break up the mounting tension.

"I thought you would never ask," King Bagdemagus replied gratefully.

Morholt snapped his fingers and immediately a group of boys reacted and came forward. They started on seeing the Worcestershire crew. "Well, well, look what the trolls dragged in," one of the boys said. Dinadan. "Was pretty sure you guys had chickened out when you didn't shot up within the first couple boarding houses."

"Dinadan. Missed you too, bro," Brunor replied, smirking coldly at his brother. He looked over to the one standing beside Dinadan. "You too, Daniel," he greeted in a warmer tone.

"It's been a while, bro," Daniel replied, nodding. None of the houses had interacted with one at other at all since the day after the assembly, and then the trip to Far Far Away itself was overnight, currents and conditions depending, then the trip to this site had been a lengthy hike, so yeah, it had been a while. It was a psychological sort of game that was played during the 'Game of Houses' event. Sometimes it worked _too_ well.

"Half-bro," Dinadan corrected Daniel. "Let's not dress it down."

"Half-brother or not, I know full well it has no bearing on how much you guys love me," Brunor replied, smirking. Dinadan chuckled.

"Save the banter for after attendance is taken, children," Bors the Elder said, approaching them from IAK tent.

"Dad!" Bors exclaimed, grinning.

"Uncle," Bleoberis greeted, smiling at the man affectionately.

"Uncle," Lancelot and Hector both echoed in succession. Bors smiled gently at them. He'd never been a fan of the whole 'isolate yourself from your rivals' policy that Worcestershire imposed before the Game of Houses began. It was hard on a lot of people. A week or two wasn't very long, really, but bear in mind that during that time you were being goaded to see the rival houses as enemies. Not friends or brothers or fathers or sons, but enemies.

"As pleasant as this reunion has been, Tristan, now we must return to our tents and let Worcestershire set theirs up. The participants are about to be called out and divided up," Morholt said, glaring coldly at Tristan who was fixing him with a death glare.

"Yes, of course. We will banter later," Meliot said, nodding at Morholt. Morholt nodded back and the two houses separated.

KAK

(Large Attendance. Again, don't bother trying to remember the names. If they're important they'll be brought up or rehashed again.)

"Welcome to the Game of Academies!" Petipace cried out loud, taking the 'stage'. "This year our participants have been hand selected from among the best Worcestershire has to offer."

"Arthur's among the best?!" Lancelot heckled. Most of the others laughed, and Arthur winced, shrinking down and looking embarrassed.

"Anyone who can last as long as he did against _me_ in a challenge is, in fact, among the best," Pellinore sharply put in. Lancelot and others started, and a sea of eyes went to Arthur, who blushed and tried to shrink himself down even further, wincing.

"Our teams are as follows," Petipace continued, and all eyes went to him again. "The Accomodations for Young Pages, special guests and extremely gifted boys each one! Worcestershire Accomodations, Irish Accomodations of Knighthood, Green Knight Accomodations, and Red Knight Accomodations! We have, this day, a great many participants." Over sixty which, Petipace wryly noted to himself, was going to kill his throat. He half wondered if he should bring up the torture card and ply for sympathy. "Accompanying each house are their dorm fathers. For Worcestershire, Sir Meliot; for IAK, Sir Morholt; for the Pages, myself; for GKA, Sir Pertilope; and for RKA, Sir Permones! Two other faculty will accompany the dorm fathers as insurance. For Worcestershire, King Pellinore and Sir Ector; for IAK, King Bagdemagus and King Bors. For the Pages, King Carados and King Galehaut; for GKA, Bishop Baudwin and Sir Amide Banier, or Plaine de Force; for RKA, Sir Brastias and Sir Ulfius."

Petipace paused, looking at the list of names coming up, and grimaced. King Caradoc approached him and handed him a waterskin. Petipace nodded gratefully, muttered a question which Caradoc sharply laughed at before tuning and walking away. Petipace took a drink with a put-out frown. "Probably tried to con him into reciting the list for him," Astomar said, smirking. Dagonet smirked back.

Petipace lay the waterskin aside and turned to the list again. "The participants from Worcestershire Accomodations are as follows: Alymere aka Astomar, Arthur Pendragon, Bedivere, Bleoberis de Ganis, Bors de Ganis, Brunor le Noir, Dagonet, Degore, Gareth, Gawain, Hector de Maris, Kay le Senechal, Lamorak le Savage, Lancelot du Lac, Lionel de Ganis, Lucan the Butler, Palamedes, Pelleas, Safir, and Tristan de Lyones.

The participants from IAK are as follows: Accolon of Gaul, Aglovale, Agravaine, Alisander, Balan, Balin the… Ill-fated, Bran de Lis, Daniel von dem Bluhenden Tal, Dinadan, Dornar, Gaheris, Galihoden of Honolan, Geraint fab Erbin, Griflet, Hoel, Percival, Sagremore le Impetuous, Segwarides, and Tor.

"Hoel is here?" Arthur said hopefully.

"What's got _you_ excited?" Lancelot asked.

"Uh, he's my cousin?" Arthur replied, frowning. "I haven't seen him since your moron friends tried to string him up in the assembly hall and beat him half to death!" He'd left school for a bit, to recover. It was about time they had a chance to reconnect. He could ask him how he'd been. He hoped he caught up to him before they all split up. Lancelot scowled but didn't defend his friends.

"The Pages who will be participating in the Game of Houses are as follows: Constantine of Cornwall, Dywel fab Erbin, Ermind fab Erbin, Galeschin of Garlot, Loholt of Orkney, Mordred of Orkney, Ywain son of Uriens, and Yvain the…" Petipace began. He trailed off, reading the name like he couldn't believe what was written there. Yvain seemed to close in on himself, hanging his head low and looking like he wanted to disappear. He knew what the list said. 'The Bastard of Cavaliot'. That's what it always was… "Yvain the Adventurous," Petipace finally said.

Yvain looked up in shock, eyes wide. "Huh?" he said quietly to himself. Petipace caught his shocked gaze and smiled gently, winking. Yvain perked up, grinning. Ywain beamed at his brother in excitement.

"Dywel and Ermind? Aren't they two of the children who were goblins? Why are they even here? It's too soon for them to be out of therapy and sent off on a thing like this!" Safir said.

"They're here because they are totally and completely dependent on Geraint, right now. They will not be separated from him, and heaven help whoever tries to do so before they've been able to cope with everything that's happened," Meliot answered.

"This isn't a good idea," Safir protested.

"It's a worse one to bring along Geraint and leave them behind," Meliot said.

"Why wasn't Geraint left behind as well, then?" Safir challenged.

"Because everyone wants to win and Erec is talented, a valuable asset to IAK," Meliot answered.

"Geraint felt like a change of scenery and a little adventure might be good for Dywel and Ermind," Pellinore corrected, frowning at Meliot's analysis. "This wasn't our call. It was his." Safir looked ready to protest, but he caught Bleoberis making a threatening gesture towards him and decided, at that point, that it was probably better to keep his mouth shut. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he let it go. For now. But he might have to find a way to meet and subsequently lecture Geraint later, if possible. Such recklessness was careless and potentially costly, after all.

Petipace continued. "The participants from GKA are as follows: Earl Aristause, Calogrevance aka Calogrenant, Darras, Dodinel aka Pinel le Savage, Gahalantine, Galleron of Galway, Gautere, Giomar, Hebes les Renownes, Lavain, Meleagant, Menaduke of Mentoche, and Ozanna le Cure Hardy. The participants from RKA are as follows: Edvard of Carnarvon, Edward of Orkney, Espinogres, Guyart aka Gures aka Gary the Younger, Harry, Xavier Ironside, and Earl Lambaile.

The pages will be divided between WA and IAK. Accompanying Worcestershire Accomodations will be Loholt, Mordred, Yvain, and Ywain. Accompanying IAK will be Constantine, Dywel, Ermind, and Galeschin. King Galehaut of the Distant Isles and Sorelais will join WA as a fourth faculty member, to compensate for the additions. King Carados Briefbas of Scotland and King Bors de Ganis will join IAK as extra staff to compensate for the extra additions. Now, ready yourselves noble houses, for afore the sun is low in the sky, the Game of Houses shall commence!" Everyone cheered.

KAK

The names recited, and arrangements made, the houses were now in prep mode. And apparently trash talk mode as well. "Trying to play with the big boys, Worcestershire?" Agravaine taunted, not even missing a beat.

"Bite your tongue, Agravaine," Gareth bit. "Besides, not like you can talk. You're barely older than me."

"You know full well that wasn't what he meant by 'big boys', little brother," Gaheris said.

"The family's all together again," Mordred dryly remarked.

"Mordred, secret spy handshake now," Agravaine said, grinning slyly at his little sibling. Mordred perked up and immediately responded to his brother's handshake.

"Secret spy handshake, Agravaine? Really?" Arthur dryly asked. As established many times, he'd never been a fan of Agravaine. Least liked one of Lot's sons next to Mordred. The guy was a sleaze and a snitch, a rat and snake.

"Back off, Arthur," Agravaine bit, frowning.

Hoel approached, focused on Arthur. "H-hey c-cuz," he greeted, smiling.

"Hoel, you made it to this," Arthur said, grinning.

"G-Gary, I-Ironside, and I m-may be g-geeks, but we're n-not helpless, when it c-comes down to it," Hoel said, pulling Arthur into a brief hug.

"Safir, Palamedes!" Segwarides exclaimed, pushing through his comrades and running right to them.

"Segwarides!" Safir exclaimed.

"Fondest greetings unto thee, brother," Palamedes said, grinning. He hadn't been happy upon learning they weren't to interact with any members of rival dorm houses, so he was more than pleased that they had time to interact now before being split up again. He and his two brothers wandered a little way away, laughing and talking animatedly.

"Aglovale, Dornar, Tor, Percival!" Lamorak exclaimed, grinning widely and moving towards his own siblings.

"Lamorak!" Percival exclaimed happily.

"Hey there, little brother," Aglovale said, grinning and noogying Lamorak. Lamorak grinned affectionately, pushing his hands off.

"Have I ever mentioned how royally ticked I was when you ditched IAK for WA?" Dornar teased. "Took all the fun out of wiping the floor with them. We were an impenetrable team before _you_ switched sides."

"It was dad's idea that at least one of us defect. None of _you_ were volunteering," Lamorak pointed out.

"Touché," Dornar admitted, smirking.

"Guys, let's get a move on here!" Sagremore said, approaching the sons of Pellinore along with Accolon.

"Oh look, it's the guy who couldn't keep it in his pants with my sister. No wonder Uriens didn't show up," Arthur bit at Accolon before he could stop himself.

"He didn't show because you were here!" Accolon immediately defended, blushing brightly and immediately looking like he wanted to disappear, visibly uncomfortable.

"Guess we'd better head back to IAK before we go at one another," Dornar dryly said.

"We're going to own all of you," Sagremore said, pointing at them.

"This coming from the Narcissus of the modern world?" Gareth sarcastically bit. "You'll probably be the one to screw them over." Sagremore went at him without question, but Accolon quickly seized him, holding him back with a grimace.

"Good luck out there," Aglovale said to them as the rest of IAK headed over too.

"You don't wish the enemy good luck, bro," Dornar said, rolling his eyes. Aglovale frowned at him but let it go as the others reached them.

Bagdemagus headed towards the group, going to Pellinore. "Everything's set up and ready?" he asked.

"Yes. You're heading out with you and yours now?" Pellinore asked.

"I'm about to. I had to check on my son Meleagant," Bagdemagus said. "Make sure he was prepared."

"The kid that makes Dinadan look like a tolerant guy?" Gareth dryly asked.

"Hey, I'm plenty tolerant!" Dinadan protested. "The little people and the poor wretches of the peasant class simply get in my way and dirty up my air. You can hardly blame me for avoiding the swine like the plague."

"You're a creep, plain and simple," Daniel said to his brother from beside Tor.

"Whoa, I almost forgot you were there, Dan," Tor remarked to Daniel. Daniel frowned, unimpressed.

KAK

"Lucan, feeling threatened by little cousin yet?" Griflet teased, poking his cousin.

"Sacrilege!" Lucan protested, scowling at Griflet.

"We're going to run you all into the ground, uncle," Agravaine said to Arthur, smirking wickedly at him.

Arthur, pointedly ignoring him, looked over at Hoel who stood at his side. "You know, you'd think my nephews would try and show some respect to their uncle who's, you know, sitting on the throne of the high king, but oh no, not them. Instead they're among my principal tormentors," he said. Hoel snickered. Arthur grinned. "Seriously man. Gareth and Agravaine get off on bullying me mercilessly along with Lancelot, Gaheris is a tossup I can't even predict anymore, and Mordred? Don't even get me _started_. That brat is creepy as all getup, as much a snake as Agravaine, and has a tongue so acidy it would make a snake bite seem like luxury. Kind of like Kay."

"Hey!" Kay protested at the same time as an outraged Mordred.

"You're seriously classifying Mordred as one of your principal tormentors? He's just being a kid," Gareth said.

"That is no normal kid," Arthur bit, glaring at Mordred who was seething, eyes burning with hatred. Which of course wasn't anything new. Mordred had hated him even _before_ he'd left Worcestershire with Shrek. He still hated him now.

"Give it a rest, Arthur," Gawain said, frowning at his uncle.

"I'm pleased with how the houses were set up this year," Pellinore remarked, quick to change the subject before things could spiral further.

"At least this year our opponents are worthy," Morholt agreed.

"It's flattering to know you consider us worthy opponents," Meliot said.

"It's made all the more interesting by the fact that this round there are weaknesses all around," Ector said.

"True. It echoes battle, I think," Caradoc spoke up, eyes boring into Arthur coldly. Arthur shifted uneasily. "Opposing styles and skills, conflicting attitudes towards class and wealth even within the ranks… the desire for families to have members on all sides just to ensure at least one or two live…" Pellinore winced at the pointed remark and glanced away a bit awkwardly.

Bors the Elder looked at his sons. "Bors, Lionel, you two behave out there," he warned.

"Yes sir," Bohort answered, grinning at his father.

Pellinore looked over his children with a frown. He didn't like the idea of not having them all with him. The forest was dangerous. Lamorak he could protect, but Tor, Aglovale, Percival, and Dornar would be out of his reach. That didn't sit well with him. "If any harm befalls my children, this peaceful little interlude you and I are having will come to a jarring halt," he warned Bagdemagus.

"I don't intend to let any harm befall your boys. Or _any_ of my students for that matter," Bagdemagus assured. "Why do you think I chose to bring along Morholt?"

"Good," Pellinore replied.

"I expect you, Pellinore, to do the same for my boys as Bagdemagus will do for yours," Bors the Elder said, frowning at Pellinore.

"Bohort and Lionel will not come to harm. Or Lancelot, Hector, or Bleoberis. I can promise you that," Pellinore stated, nodding at Bors the Elder in understanding.

"Yes, well, now that all that's out of the way, we can get back to business. IAK house will run WA into the ground," Bagdemagus teased, smirking at Pellinore.

"Worcestershire will see about that," Pellinore answered, chuckling.


	3. Forest Troll

Forest Troll

The schools had all gone their separate ways. Hours had passed by, now, and Arthur was getting impatient with the pace of things. He knew they were going slow because of concern over trolls, but seriously? The other houses had to be leaving them in the dust by now! He looked ahead at Sir Meliot and King Pellinore with an annoyed expression. "That's it, I've had it," he muttered to Kay, Yvain, and Ywain, who rode nearby.

"Arthur, don't…" Kay began, but Arthur had already harried his horse to catch up to the principal and the keeper of the courtyard. Ywain watched curiously and followed his Uncle. Arthur looked back with a raised eyebrow but said nothing. Yvain exchanged uneasy looks with Kay.

"Excuse me, King Pellinore," Arthur said in a forced firm tone. Pellinore turned curiously.

"Arthur?" he asked.

"It's been a long time since we entered this forest, and so far nothing. I'm not entirely convinced this troll theory you, Ector, and Meliot have is on the level. We're falling behind because of your paranoia over it. We can't let IAK win," Arthur declared.

"Oh no?" Pellinore asked, raising an eyebrow.

Arthur hadn't expected that, and his bravery fled. "Uh, n-no. I-I mean come on, what are the chances of trolls, really?"

"I suppose you'd like to find out?" Sir Meliot questioned, glaring warningly at Arthur.

"No sir," Arthur admitted meekly. He let the horse fall back.

"That's telling them, Arthur," Lancelot remarked.

"Shut up, Lance," Arthur growled.

"Arthur at least tried," Bedivere defended.

"For all the good it did us," Breunor said.

"Hey, no one asked you!" Arthur barked. All at once, though, they heard a roar and the caravan froze, horses whinnying in fear and trying to turn back.

KAK

"Easy, easy," Ector said, he, Pellinore, Galehaut, and Meliot gaining control of their horses and making sure none of the others bolted with any students.

"Holy crap, what _was_ that!?" Safir demanded to know.

"Troll," Meliot casually answered.

"Troll?! How can you be so calm?!" Safir demanded.

"Alack, we are undone," Palamedes worriedly said.

"For whom the bell tolls," Lamorak sang in agreement.

"Shut up!" Kay barked, annoyed.

"Hey, easy," Tristan warned Kay, glaring warningly at him before riding ahead to join the teachers.

"Don't worry, boys, it's nothing," Pellinore quickly assured, sensing panic building up in the group.

"Yeah, seriously. Trolls prefer goats to humans, people, calm down," Lancelot said, vaguely annoyed with the cowardice of the others. Slowly they began to calm.

"Now, stay here while Sir Ector, King Pellinore, and I go to check it out," Meliot stated.

"Wait, you're going alone to face a _troll_?!" Arthur demanded.

"Dad…" Kay began, looking worriedly at Ector.

"We'll be fine," Ector assured.

"And your certainty comes from where?" Lucan questioned.

"Trust us boys, we can handle it," Galehaut assured.

"Permission to speak, sirs!" Degore said.

"Permission granted," Ector replied.

"Sirs, if you four aren't back in O one-hundred, are we to assume the worst?" Degore asked.

The teachers looked at each other, silently conveying messages. Soon they turned back. "Try two hours. If we're not back by then, you can assume the worst," Ector said.

"What do we do if you don't come back?" Gawain questioned.

"Head back to the clearing, sound the warning horn, and tell anyone you see on your way what the situation is," Galehaut replied, "But _don't_ come after us."

"It won't come to that, though, will it," Dagonet more stated than asked.

"Hopefully not," Ector replied. "Arthur… your highness… you are to lead them out if the worst happens." Arthur beamed at the title Ector had used. _And_ the responsibility that had been given him.

"What?!" all the boys exclaimed in disbelief. Even Galehaut grimaced at this statement. Arthur's proud smile became a wince.

"You're asking _him_ to lead us out?!" Mordred demanded.

"What are you, crazy?" Gareth supported.

"He'll probably lead us right into their _lair_ ," Breunor said.

"No questions. It's what's going to happen," Meliot firmly stated.

"Yeah, no, I don't think so, Sir Meliot," Arthur said.

"Hey, you can do it man," Dagonet said to him with certainty. Arthur looked uncertainly at him, then back.

"Saying you can't without even trying isn't the mark of a king, Arthur. Assuming you really _are_ one," Tristan said.

"Hey, shut up. You know I'm a king, dammit! Look, I already got that spiel from Gawain," Arthur said.

" _You're_ telling _us_ to shut up?" Gareth scoffed.

"The more we argue, the closer the trolls potentially come to devouring all of us," Lucan intervened.

"I don't wanna get de-do-eaten," Bleoberis fearfully said.

"Why are you all so scared? We have swords," Hector declared bluntly. They all looked at him blankly, then at their weapons as if just remembering.

"Oh yeah. We knew that," Pelleas said lamely after a beat.

"Yeah right," Bohort remarked.

"Great, the only competent ones here are me, Bohort, and Hector," Arthur grumbled.

"You? Competent? Since _when_?!" Lancelot said. The others laughed, or most of them did at least.

"Lancelot, guys," Brunor suddenly intervened. They all looked up. Brunor was pointing. They looked in the direction he was gesturing only to see the four teachers fading away. The atmosphere became grave as they evaporated into the woods.

"Congratulations Arthur, you're our way out of this place," Gawain said. The others looked dubiously at Arthur, making him swallow. Oh, he did _not_ want to be here right now.

KAK

The group sat on logs, grass, stones, wherever they could. The horses were grazing off to the side. The boys had separated themselves each in their own little groups. Dagonet and Alymere were sitting on rocks, glaring across at Bleoberis and Breunor who were muttering something and continuously looking over at them. It didn't take a genius to know they wanted victims to beat up, and Dagonet and Astomar were high on the list of potentials. Arthur was just glad it wasn't him. He looked to each side of himself, taking in his own companions who were sitting with him on a log. Lancelot and Gawain. He had been lucky so far. Lancelot hadn't made a move yet. Maybe it had something to do with the sepulchral mood or the fact Gawain was here too.

Lamorak and Palamedes were perched in a tree, Lamorak strumming a lute and Palamedes reciting poetic words which Lamorak would then write down and sing. They were composing a song, Arthur could tell. Safir was moving worriedly around the horses, making sure everything was secured onto them and making sure they wouldn't stampede. Pelleas followed, once in a while going to tighten a saddle bag or saddle that Safir deemed unsafe. Arthur let his eyes wander on. Hector, Bors, and Lionel were playing a game from their places sitting cross-legged on the grass. Lucan was writing equations in the dirt while Degore stood at attention, ready to call out a warning in case Brunor and Bleoberis, who were picking out potential targets they could lash out at if they got bored enough, chose them. Degore didn't have to wait long. Shortly Brunor's eyes were on him and Lucan. Brunor nuged Bleoberis, who followed his gaze and smirked smugly on spotting them.

Degore met their eyes calmly, challengingly, before looking over at Astomar and Dagonet to see why the two B's had chosen to swich targets. He saw instantly why. Dagonet and Alymere's gazes were intense, challenging. Bleoberis and Brunor didn't want a fight, just a scapegoat. Degore nudged Lucan, who looked up in annoyance at him. Degore pointed at the two bullies. Lucan took a glance and straightened up instantly, becoming nervous. Mistake one. He showed fear. Bleoberis and Brunor smirked then rose, preparing to go over to them. Tristan, Gareth, Ywain, Yvain, Loholt, and Mordred, from their place sitting on a fallen tree, perked up on seeing this. Mordred and Gareth were hoping to see some action finally. The rest of them were more concerned than eager, ready to step in if need be.

Kay, who was standing to the side talking to Bedivere, caught sight of the situation from the corner of his eyes and pointed it out to his friend. Bedivere looked over and frowned protectively. He obviously didn't approve of the malicious advance on his sibling. He nodded to Kay, and the duo made their way towards Degore and a now standing Lucan, trying to put themselves between the two pairs. "Party poopers," Arthur heard Gareth mutter.

"We can fix that," Mordred hinted.

"Let's go help out then," Gareth said, smirking. Mordred and Gareth rose to move to the aid of the B's. Ywain, Yvain, Loholt, and Tristan stayed put, glaring after the two.

"That's enough!" Lancelot suddenly ordered them all, before things got ugly. The duo froze. Bleoberis and Brunor looked back at Lance. Kay and Bedivere stopped, and Lucan and Degore relaxed. From the branches, just alerted to the situation, Palamedes and Lamorak looked curiously down. Astomar and Dagonet were watching the near fight bitterly. The tension was gone, though, and sulkily Bleoberis and Brunor returned to their spot. Until then oblivious, Lionel, Hector, and Bors watched, quickly catching onto what almost happened. Safir and Pelleas were looking on coldly.

"About time _someone_ spoke up," Gawain remarked with a smile at Lancelot. Arthur caught the hidden message and looked coldly at Gawain. Lancelot, apparently, had been waiting for _him_ to react. When he hadn't, Lancelot had done it. Great, now Arthur felt worse. He couldn't possibly be this incompetent as a king. He needed to get over his bitterness and fear and stand up for himself and his subjects! …But he didn't know how to do that… Gawain shrugged at Arthur's cold look and went back to watching the others. The atmosphere became more neutral, once again.

Suddenly Brunor, who'd only just returned to sitting, sat up straight. The others looked quickly over at him. After a moment, Safir called, "What is it?"

"Shh, can you hear that?" Brunor quickly said as he shot up, drawing his blade.

The worry was back. Arthur rose, followed by Lancelot and Gawain. The others fell silent. There were only leaves rustling. After a bit, Arthur said, "I don't hear anything."

Brunor seemed to relax slightly, but he was still tense. "Maybe it was nothing…" Pelleas began, but all at once they heard a vicious roar! Pelleas whirled with a gasp only to be hit by a club that sent him flying into a tree with a sickening thud and a cry of agony!

"Pelleas!" Safir cried. The horses panicked and broke free, shrieking and whinnying. They charged into the woods full tilt away from their riders and the troll.

"Oh my god!" Gareth exclaimed. "Troll!" The horses were shrieking in terror. Safir looked around worriedly at them.

"Safir, get thee away!" Palamedes cried out to his brother. Lancelot drew his blade and ran towards Safir.

All at once Safir snapped out of the shock and cried out. He ran as the troll lunged at him. Suddenly, though, it changed its path and ran towards the motionless Pelleas. "Pelleas!" Kay shouted.

"No!" Hector exclaimed, drawing his sword and running at the troll as it bore down on their unconscious comrade.

"Hector, don't!" Lancelot cried in terror.

Too late. Hector was fast. He leapt up onto the troll's back and plunged his blade into it! Lionel and Bors were quick to follow. It roared in agony and swept at Hector, the easiest to reach of the three. "Drop!" Lucan called. Hector obeyed, pulling out his sword and hitting the ground running, Lionel and Bors split up to try and confuse the troll.

Bleoberis raced towards Pelleas, who was just beginning to rise with a groan. The troll roared angrily at Hector, Bohort, and Lionel's distraction, then ran towards its injured prey once more, determined to drag it, at least, away. Pelleas gasped and tried to get up. He cried out in pain, though, as an ache shot through his ribs. The troll was preparing to strike down at him! "Help!" he called.

"Oh crap!" Arthur exclaimed, instantly pulling out a set of arrows and a bow he had been carrying. He drew back the string and let an arrow fly. He sucked at archery, it was no secret, but he hoped that by some miracle it would help. In a way it did. The arrow tripped Bleoberis, who rolled right into Pelleas, knocking the both of them out of the way of the club.

"Do _not_ try to help, soldier!" Degore ordered Arthur, running towards the troll with Lucan.

"We have to get them away from there! We can't _fight_ that thing!" Arthur called. "Guys, listen to me!" They didn't.

Degore and Lucan jumped the beast, but in seconds they were sent flying. "Lo, the troll attacks! Make haste, Lamorak, we must give aid!" Palamedes declared, leaping from the branch.

"We can't take it!" Lamorak sang.

"He's right, we can't. We're completely unprepared! Get Pelleas, Bleoberis, Degore, and Lucan out of there!" Tristan ordered. Then maybe they could regroup and figure out a plan.

"I just _said_ that!" Arthur heatedly shot.

"Now's not the time for nit picking, pal," Dagonet declared, running towards the troll.

"What are you doing, Dagonet?!" Loholt called. Dagonet never answered.

"The dummy is going to be a distraction!" Gareth exclaimed, catching on.

"Damn it, Dagonet!" Gawain called, racing to help Dagonet.

"Gawain, don't!" Ywain cried out after him. Gawain, of course, paid him no heeed.

Dagonet slid in front of the troll as it was charging Bleoberis—who was now helping Pelleas up—waving his arms. The troll, distracted, turned and ran at _him_. Dagonet fled towards the woods. "Oh no you don't!" Gawain shouted from behind. He picked up a rock, throwing it at the troll. The troll turned with a roar.

"Gawain, are you insane!?" Dagonet asked.

"I'm not about to let you sacrifice yourself to save us," Gawain replied as the troll ran at him. He rolled to the side, slicing at it. The blade barely cut it. Breunor had made his way to Safir, seizing him and dragging him towards safety. Bleoberis ran, carrying Pelleas. Lamorak and Palamedes reached Degore and Lucan, dragging them up and pulling them towards the group.

Seeing that the ones who'd been in the most danger were safe, Dagonet ran back towards the group as well. The troll was still focused on Gawain. Gawain ran towards the others, but all at once he felt a crushing weight strike his back and knock him down. The troll had tossed a boulder! "Gawain!" Lancelot cried, running towards his friend.

"Come on, Kay," Bedivere said, motioning for Kay to follow.

"Gawain, hold on!" Gareth freaked, following and passing Kay and Bedivere in his desperation to reach his brother.

"Get away from our brother!" Mordred screamed at the troll in fear, for all the good it would do. Arthur knew those who were racing to Gawain's aid wouldn't make it in time. He could see that all too well. An arrow could make it, maybe, but he was the only one with a bow handy right now, and he couldn't shoot to save his life! Then again, it wasn't _his_ life he would shoot to _save_. He swallowed and drew another arrow.

"Arthur, are you insane? With _your_ aim you'll finish Gawain off!" Bedivere yelled, catching the motion.

Arthur ignored him. "Come on Arthur, hurry!" Lionel begged, prompting Arthur to pick up the pace.

"Keep your shirt on," Arthur retorted. He summoned all the knowledge he had on archery—disturbingly little for what a king _should_ have, let alone a king whose foster father was a combat teacher—took a deep breath, and hoped luck was on his side. He let it fly. The troll was almost on top of Gawain. Gawain closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, waiting for it to finish him.

"No, Gawain!" Gareth, Mordred, Loholt, Yvain, and Ywain cried. All at once the troll reared back with a roar of pain!

KAK

Arthur, who had closed his eyes, reopened them and gasped in relief on seeing that the arrow had hit the troll in the stomach! Lancelot was suddenly there, stabbing its chest. Astomar, Gareth, Kay, and Bedivere reached the boulder, and together lifted it enough so Gawain could get out. Gareth hurried to drag his sibling free and retreat. The troll fell at Lancelot's feet with a groan.

Kay came up next to him, looking down at it. Lancelot, panting, swallowed and faced Kay, nodding shakily. Kay smiled tentatively. Bohort raced up, looking at the troll with wide eyes. "Wow," he said.

"Tell me about it," Kay agreed.

Lancelot looked back. He saw the others' hopeful faces. He caught Arthur's relieved expression. He finally headed back to the group with Bedivere and Kay, leaving Bohort to look over the troll.

"I never thought I'd say this, but good shot," Lancelot dryly remarked to Arthur.

"You really think so?" Arthur hopefully asked.

"Don't push it," Lancelot warned.

Bors turned, calling, "There's no way it's getting back up!"

"Tell that to _him_!" Loholt exclaimed suddenly, paling and pointing behind Bors.

"Huh?" Bors asked, turning. He gasped and cried out in alarm as the troll was bringing down its club!

"Bors!" Lionel cried.

"Bohort!" another voice, frantic, echoed.

All at once Bors felt himself tackled out of the way with a grunt. He looked up at the person and gasped. "Dad!" he exclaimed. Sir Bors the Elder leapt back up, pale and shaken. He frantically scanned his son to make sure he was alright, then spun on the troll furiously, enraged at it for almost killing his child. He lunged, stabbing with all his might. It pulled back and roared, swinging a massive hand at its attacker. Before it could land a hit, an arrow flew from the side, piercing the hand. "Bagdemagus, about time!" Bors the Elder called as King Bagdemagus galloped onto the scene along with Petipace. This troll was unnaturally strong, it appeared. That didn't bode well.

"It should have fallen by now! Why won't this thing die?!" Petipace demanded, throwing a javelin at it and striking its side.

"It will!" Morholt's voice said. A second later the man leapt from the trees above, plunging his sword into the troll's back.

"Excellent, Morholt," Carados complimented, riding up and circling the troll to try and confuse it, striking whenever an opening presented itself.

"Bagdemagus, go!" Morholt called. Bagdemagus surged forward, driving his blade into the beast. Petipace lunged as well, driving a spear into its throat. Finally, it succumbed to the attacks, collapsing with a final roar.

"Rule one, kids, always have a plan for any situation," Bors called, stepping back from the troll.

"And then some," Petipace added, withdrawing his spear and wiping it on the grass. Just then Pellinore, Meliot, Galehaut, and Ector galloped onto the scene and gasped, staring at the sight in shocked disbelief.

KAK

The nine adults stood over the troll. Morholt, Bagdemagus, Petipace, Carados, and Bors the Elder lightly panting. The boys stared at them in shock, Bors the Younger was still on the ground. Finally, they replaced their blades, adrenaline rush ending. Bors the Elder looked tiredly down at his son and offered his hand. Bohort swallowed nervously and took it, rising with his father's help and looking uneasy. "Da…" he began. Bors simply pulled Bohort against him, hugging the boy. "Papa, not in front of the guys!" Bohort whined, embarrassed.

"Bors!" Lionel exclaimed, running up to his brother. He grabbed him in a tight hug.

"Lionel, come on, this isn't helping _either_ of us," Bohort stated, pushing both Lionel and Bors the Elder away.

"Well forgive us for caring!" Lionel bit.

"I'm fine," Bohort assured.

"Get back to the others!" Ector veritably roared. Startled, Bohort and Lionel looked at him with wide eyes. That tone was _not_ to be taken lightly. The way the other boys reacted, Arthur guessed they'd all heard it before.

"Get moving," Pellinore icily backed, in stark contrast to his jovial personality. Bohort and Lionel exchanged nervous glances then returned to the other students.

"You idiot! The blood of my sons will be on _your_ hands if anything like this happens again!" Bors shrieked at Pellinore, outraged.

"You aren't pinning this on me!" Pellinore furiously shot back. "We left to try and _protect_ your boys."

"For all the good _that_ did them! I pity your sons their father!" Bors shot.

"You are _not_ pulling the bad parenting card on me, Bors! I've had more than three times as many children as you have!"

"That doesn't mean squat!" Bors freaked.

The boys all looked uncertain. Safir was holding Pelleas—the latter still in pain—up. Gawain was sitting down catching his breath, his brothers and cousins glancing at him constantly in concern. As the nine teachers finished with their bickering and closed in on them, however, Lancelot offered his hand. Gawain took it and rose to face them.

"Let me guess. Big trouble, right?" Astomar nervously questioned. Gareth nudged him hard. The question was stupid. Even Bleoberis knew that, as evidenced by his dubious look. Alymere shrugged lamely.

"What was that?" Petipace asked.

"Uh, a-a troll, sir," Lucan nervously replied.

"Not that!" Petipace snapped. Lucan pulled back with a gasp.

"Twenty-four," Sir Ector began. They were confused until he clarified. "There are _twenty-four_ of you. There was _one_ troll. How did you not defeat it?" They exchanged nervous glances. "How is it that twenty-four perfectly capable boys couldn't defeat _one_ troll?"

"We were taken by surprise," Safir tried to defend.

"That's no excuse!" Meliot shot, silencing him. Safir looked down ashamedly, as did the others. "Have we really taught you all so little?" Meliot questioned.

"N-no sir. It wouldn't die, though," Yvain timidly said.

"It's a good thing we've brought you on this trip," Caradoc grimly said. "Consider it a kind of test."

"I _knew_ there was more to this than just a mere competition," Dagonet grumbled.

"And not a moment too soon either, after _that_ sad display," Bagdemagus sharply said. "Now, who was hurt?"

Gawain was first to step forward. "It threw a boulder at me and pinned me, sir," he admitted.

Pelleas followed Gawain's lead, adding, "I got clubbed into a tree. I'm sorry, sirs; we'll do better next time."

"Hopefully there won't _be_ a next time," Morholt replied.

"Anyone else?" Galehaut questioned, eyeing Lancelot and Hector with concern.

"Sir, Lucan and I were thrown, sir," Degore said.

"We only got a few bruises," Lucan quickly added.

"Where are the horses?" Sir Morholt asked.

"They ran away, sir," Tristan replied bitterly.

"Wonderful," Pellinore bitterly said.

"These boys are so lacking in teamwork it's not even funny," Sir Caradoc muttered to the others. The boys exchanged glances then looked ashamedly down once more.

"Oh, don't worry. We intend to fix that," Pellinore assured.

"Arthur, are you all right?" Ector questioned.

"Yes dad," Arthur replied. Turning to the teachers who'd come to their aid, he added, "And may I say you five did an awesome job killing that troll."

"Suck up," Gareth bit.

"You know, it's technically Arthur's fault. Since you put him in charge," Mordred remarked.

"What?! It is not! If you'd listened to me, Lucan and Degore wouldn't have even _been_ hurt!" Arthur shot back.

"Oh no? I doubt they'd agree!" Gareth shot. "Right Lucan?" Lucan remained silent. "Right?" Gareth growled.

"Did he try to warn you or not?" Bors asked.

"No, he didn't," Brunor lied.

"He did too," Lucan finally said. Bleoberis hit him in the back of the head. Brunor face-palmed. He'd known that would happen if Lucan stuck to facts. Lucan needed to start letting people lie for him.

"Now the truth comes out. I'd advise you stop trying to get Arthur in trouble," Pellinore said. The boys stayed quiet. "Let's get moving. Horses or no horses, we're not going back."

"The clearing we've chosen to camp in is only a few more hours away," Meliot added.

"Bors, Lionel, are you two certain you're alright?" Bors questioned.

"Yes sir," the two brothers said together.

"Lancelot, Hector, Bleoberis, you too?" Bors the Elder asked of his nephews.

"We're fine, sir," Lancelot replied.

"The troll was nothing," Hector waved off.

"Humph. Then we'll get back to our own students," Bors said. "Pellinore, if this happens again expect trouble. A lot of it."

"I expect no less from you regarding _my_ children," Pellinore warned as the IAK staff left with Petipace and Carados.

KAK

After a few minutes of recovery, WA started on their way again. Pelleas, though, quickly fell to the rear, wincing in pain and holding his ribs. Finally he stopped, gasping and leaning against a tree. Safir froze, worried, and called, "Sirs, I think Pelleas is really hurt!"

The others all looked back. "Leave the sick, the lame, and the weak. They can lure the monsters away," Mordred remarked coldly.

"Shut up, Mordred," Loholt bit, frowning at him. Mordred glared icily back.

Meliot returned to Pelleas. He looked the boy over then tried a few tests. Pelleas cried out in pain. Gawain approached to observe. "Your deductions, Gawain?" Meliot asked. He knew that Carados had been tutoring Gawain in first aid for a while now. Right up until he'd left to join the rebel kings, in fact. As a result, Gawain was well on his way to maybe one day even surpassing his mentor.

Gawain looked uncertain, then worried. "It's broken, isn't it?" he asked.

"It's very possible," Meliot confirmed. He looked to the other three faculty. "I think he has a broken or cracked rib," he called to them.

"Perfect," Ector muttered, annoyed.

Pellinore rode back and leapt from his steed. "Get on the horse, Pelleas. You shouldn't move too much. Bleoberis, put him on," he said.

Pelleas almost laughed to himself. Bleoberis wouldn't help. The guy had only just been looking to beat him up before the troll confrontation. Imagine the young squire's surprise, then, when the giant came to him and did, indeed, help him. Gently at that. Pelleas blinked in shock. "Dere ya go, Pelleas. Don't expect it again," Bleoberis warned.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say," Pelleas replied through teeth that were gritted in pain, happy to be riding instead of walking.

KAK

They reached a clearing where they could camp, soon enough. It was a fair-size. They'd been impressed. There wasn't a lot of time to admire it right now, though. It was late. Quickly the boys lined up to get their tent assignments. "Tent one: Brunor, Bleoberis, Kay, and Bedivere. Tent two: Safir, Pelleas, Degore, and Lucan. Boys, watch Pelleas carefully," Ector stated.

"I feel better sir, really," Pelleas insisted. "I'm pretty sure it was only a bruised bone."

"I don't care. We'll observe you tonight. We'll see how you are tomorrow. Tent three: Hector, Lionel, and Bors. Tent four: Lamorak, Palamedes, Ywain, and Yvain. Tent five: Gareth, Loholt, and Mordred. Tent six: Me, King Galehaut, Sir Meliot, and King Pellinore. Tent seven: Tristan, Dagonet, and Alymere. Tent eight…" At this point Arthur began to pray his luck didn't give out on him. Like he'd ever had any to begin with. "Arthur, Lancelot, and Gawain," Ector finished.

"No!" Arthur cried, drawing it out. Lancelot and Gawain looked at each other hopelessly. Lancelot then struck the back of Arthur's head, knocking him down and silencing him.

"About time. If _you_ hadn't silenced him, _I_ would have," Bedivere stated, rolling his eyes.

"Go to bed, boys. Tomorrow we begin the appraisal and training," Sir Meliot declared. The group grumbled goodnights and retired to their tents, Arthur whimpering.

"Oh will you man up? We're not going to do anything to you. At least not tonight. I'm too tired to be bothered," Lancelot declared.

"Yeah right. And the world is round," Arthur growled.

"Let's not get ridiculous," Gawain said.

"Actually, it is," Lancelot stated. Arthur and Gawain exchanged glances. The other boys froze and looked at Lancelot in shock. All at once they all burst into laughter. The only ones able to keep their cool were the teachers and Tristan. Pellinore kept his cool because he kind of owed Lancelot the benefit of the doubt. After all, Lance was the only one who believed him whenever he told people that he believed one day men would fly in metal birds in the sky. It was possible, he knew it was, and he'd stick by that statement to his dying day!

"I guess that's what you get from a knowledge of mythology unsurpassed by any," Alymere said, wiping at his eyes.

"He knows things about mythology that not even books and scholars do," Dagonet said, grinning.

Lancelot scowled. "You'll see, you'll _all_ see!" he shouted. With that he threw open the tent flap, marching in. They laughed even more.

KAK

"Rise and shine boys!" Sir Ector's voice bellowed as soon as dawn broke.

Seconds later Degore stumbled from his tent, saying, "Sir, yes sir!" He stood rigid as if waiting for roll call. He looked back at his tent, frowned, then raced back. The teachers heard cries of alarm, then Degore dragged Safir, Lucan, and Pelleas out.

"Hey, let go!" Safir shot, pulling free and scowling at him.

"Ten hup! Roll call is to commence in mere moments!" Degore ordered.

"Why so early?" Lucan whined.

"Who cares? Do you want me to hunt for breakfast? Make it? Supervise? Get the others out? Name it and it's done," Pelleas eagerly said. He winced in pain and groaned, holding his ribs. Quickly, though, he shook it off.

"No. You're hurt," Pellinore declared.

"They're just bruises, sir, nothing else," Pelleas insisted. "I'm ready to help in any way you need."

"Save your strength for the skills appraisal after breakfast," Pellinore said with a sigh.

"Here come the others, finally," Ector remarked, pointing at the other tents.

Brunor and Bleoberis emerged from their own tent, Bedivere and Kay following, each one of the four obviously tired, rubbing their eyes, or yawning. "Who's de dumb jerk who woke us?" Bleoberis asked.

"That would be me," Sir Ector replied, frowning at him.

"Did I say dumb? I meant smart," Bleoberis quickly covered.

"One of your brighter moments, I'm sad to say," Brunor said with a sigh, rolling his eyes hopelessly.

Kay glared at the teachers coldly. "Don't get worked up, Kay, you know what happens," Ector said.

"What happens?" Bedivere asked.

"Nothing," Kay quickly replied.

"Ah how beautifully the day's dawn maketh the dewy drops shine upon the grass," Palamedes said, emerging from a tent.

In a singsong voice—to the surprise of the others he wasn't ripping words off some song this round—Lamorak said, "Hey that's good, I'll write that down." Ywain and Yvain followed him out of the tent.

"About time you spoke normally," Tristan good naturedly said as he, Alymere, and Dagonet emerged.

"If you call his tone normal," Kay grumbled.

"Rough night, Kay?" Dagonet asked.

"He's always like this when he wakes up. He turns into a total jerk," Bedivere explained.

"Oh great," Safir complained. "The last thing we need is another danger to our camping expedition."

"Hey, shut it Safir!" Kay barked.

Gareth emerged from his tent with Mordred, who looked grumpy, and Loholt. "What a great start to the day," he sarcastically said.

Alymere, the most awake of them all next to Pelleas and Degore, stretched and said, "Man, that was the best sleep I've had for _weeks_."

"What was your _worst_?" Gareth grumbled.

"His worst was when we dumped dirt and worms into his bed," Bohort replied, emerging from his tent with Lionel and Hector. Lionel snickered at the memory of the worm prank.

"I can't believe you two got passed him without his waking up," Hector remarked as he emerged last, smiling.

"Astomar freaked out," Lionel declared.

"I did _not_!" Alymere shot.

"Oh please, we could hear you scream across the campus," Lancelot said as he emerged from the tent. His voice sounded strained, though. They turned to see him alongside Gawain, trying to drag something out.

"Arthur, come on! You're an embarrassment to your foster family and blood family both," Gawain said in the first annoyed tone they'd heard from him in a while.

"Are you crazy? It's the crack of dawn! At the castle I don't even get up until _noon_!" Arthur retorted.

"And you expect us to believe you're a _king_?!" Lancelot demanded. He and Gawain pulled one last time, dragging Arthur out and holding him by his ankles.

"Let me go! I order you to release me!" Arthur protested. The whole group, except the more serious ones, burst into laughter. "It's not funny!" Arthur yelled.

"Put him down," Galehaut warned, frowning. Not for any love of Arthur, but because they had no time for this nonsense. Lancelot and Gawain dropped him none too gracefully. Arthur rose, muttering under his breath.

"You're usually not so... ornery or contrary to getting up when it's expected of you, son," Ector said, raising an eyebrow.

"He barely got any sleep. Lancelot was being a total creep," Gawain said, glaring darkly at Lancelot. "He was tormenting the poor sap. By the time Arthur got to sleep, the sun was starting to rise and _I_ was just waking up. Figured out the rest from Lancelot's self-satisfied smirk while he was sleeping."

"Hey, not my fault he couldn't take a little ribbing," Lancelot said with a scoff.

"Or a threat of something unpleasant slipped into my bedroll!" Arthur shouted.

"Suck it up. Now, what's this about a skills appraisal?" Lancelot asked the teachers as Arthur fumed.

"We'll fill you in after breakfast," Meliot replied as Ector glared foully at Lancelot.

"Is it even _ready_?" Kay grumpily asked.

"Oh great, it's morning Kay," Arthur complained.

"Shut the heck up, Arthur!" Kay yelled.

"Whoa, easy dude," Astomar said, slightly uncertain about how to react to this new side of Kay.

"Breakfast is ready," Sir Ector quickly interrupted, pointing to the layout of fruit and cooked strips of meat.

"Yes!" Brunor said.

"Food!" Bleoberis said, racing towards it. The other boys, upon seeing Brunor and Bleoberis running for the meal, quickly followed, not wanting to miss out.

KAK

The group dutifully ate. The adults had taken their fill and stood to the side watching them, talking quietly amongst themselves and once in a while pointing at a few of them. Sometimes one teacher would shake his head in disagreement or nod, assenting to something. "What are they doing?" Arthur asked quietly, watching them warily.

"Who knows what deeds they speak of?" Palamedes replied. Arthur looked dubiously at him but shrugged it off.

"I believe they are deciding the guidelines of some sort of examination," Lucan said.

"Great," Arthur groaned.

"Let's get down to business," Lamorak sang, strumming his lute.

"Don't worry, according to school safety standards they're prohibited from putting us in any really dangerous situation just for a test," Safir assured.

"Yeah, sure," Brunor scoffed.

"Cynical, aren't we?" Lucan asked.

"Shut it, geek," Brunor warned.

"Finish up boys, we need to start," Sir Meliot declared as the four teachers returned to them. Quickly the boys finished and lined up in front of them.

"Here's how this is going to go. We're going to divide you into two teams," Sir Ector said. "The two teams will start on opposite sides of the clearing. When you hear me whistle, you're to attack each other as if you were fighting a battle. We'll be watching and appraising you, so it doesn't really matter which side wins or loses. However, when we confront other dorm houses it _will_ matter. You boys need to be prepared. What better way to prepare than to fight each other?"

"There will be two rounds," Galehaut added.

"So divide already," Bedivere eagerly said, growing excited.

The teachers looked at each other, then back. "I must admit, it might seem unfair to some of you," Sir Ector warned.

"Try us," Tristan replied.

"If you insist," Sir Meliot said.

"Team one: Bleoberis, Brunor Le Noir, Lancelot Du Lac, Gareth, Mordred, Alymere, Tristan De Lyones, Kay, Bedivere, Ywain, Loholt, and Degore. Team two: Arthur Pendragon, Lionel, Lamorak, Palamedes, Safir, Lucan, Dagonet, Pelleas, Gawain, Hector, Yvain, and Bors De Ganis," Sir Meliot stated, watching for reactions and not being let down.

"What?! Why do _I_ get stuck on the weak team?" Arthur demanded sharply, obviously in an incredibly ill-temper given his hellish night and the passed few hellish days he'd been dragged through.

"Hey, who are you to call us weak? You've never even seen us fight!" Bohort shot. Well, once or twice he had but still!

"We may have the weaker-built team, but we have speed working for us, Arthur," Gawain pointed out.

"Speed? Who cares? _They_ have all the power and skill," Arthur said.

"What do _you_ know about their skill or ours?" Safir asked.

Arthur winced a bit sheepishly. He guessed Saf _kind_ of had a point. He should stop taking out his bad mood on the others. That wasn't a mature thing to do and it definitely wasn't a kingly thing to do... It wasn't going to be easy... Especially not when people seemed to be goading him left, right, and center, throwing him under the carriage for the troll, threatening him with things slipped into his bedroll, putting him down... Ugh, he was hating this more and more. Maybe he should try and see the positives... He just couldn't think of any off hand right now.

"We may not win, but thou shalt not leave off unimpressed, mine king," Palamedes said to Arthur.

"Anything you can do I can do better," Lamorak sang. In his singsong voice, without using lyrics, he added, "At least, that's the vibe we're getting from you, Artie. You couldn't even shoot an arrow right."

"We'll see about that," Arthur grumbled, heading towards their side of the clearing.

"Lamorak is second in skill to no one but Lancelot and me, and Palamedes matches him," Tristan stated, walking away to join his own team. Arthur's started as he looked at the singer and the poet. Lamorak winked, smirking. Palamedes was sharpening his scimitar. Okay, colour him intrigued. It was then that Ector whistled.


	4. Hail the Son of Morgause!

Hail the Son of Morgause!

Arthur gaped as he looked out over the log his team was hiding behind. Most were pushing against it as tightly as they could. Fake arrows were flying over their heads, hitting the ground centimeters in front of them. "We need a plan," Gawain swiftly said.

"Great, anyone have an idea?" Bors asked.

"Weaknesses. They must have weaknesses," Lucan muttered, thinking.

"Yeah. Family and friends," Arthur shot. "We send Gawain after Mordred, Lucan can go after Degore, Dagonet can go after Alymere, Hector goes after Lance, Yvain goes after Ywain, I'll go after Kay. Pelleas can go after Bedivere, since he's hurt and Bedivere's sympathetic enough to go easy on him. Lamorak can go for Tristan because if he's as good as he claims, he should be able to hold his own. Lionel goes after Bleoberis, Bors goes after Breunor, Safir goes after Loholt, Palamedes goes after Gareth."

"How is _that_ going to work?" Hector demanded.

"It's brilliant!" Lucan exclaimed at the same time.

"It is?" Arthur asked.

"It _definitely_ is," Gawain said. "Brother against brother, cousin against cousin, best friend against best friend with only a few exceptions… That's among the easiest match ups we could hope to ever have," Gawain stated.

"How so?" Pelleas questioned.

"Because family will be concerned for family, friends will go easy on friends and pity them. The only ones with a real fight will be Lamorak, Palamides, and Safir, and Safir's on the list just because he won't want to hurt Loholt," Dagonet said.

"Breunor isn't related to Bohort," Alymere pointed out.

"No, but Breunor and Bleoberis buddy up a lot. Because of that, Breunor might go easy on his friend's cousin," Arthur said. Sure it was a stretch, but at least it was something.

"I suppose that plan is the safest one for us all," Safir hesitantly agreed.

"I don't want to hurt Lancelot, though," Hector nervously said.

"And I don't want to hurt Ywain!" Yvain agreed.

"Alak, the children speak troth. This arrangement is destined to be a two-edged sword," Palamedes lamented.

"We have to _win_ , though," Lionel muttered.

"Then it's a battle of wills. Whoever caves first loses. Don't be the one to give up. Remember, this is just a test," Gawain stated.

"Then to battle? I guess?" Safir said.

"The sounding of the drums of war, the thrill of our team's mighty roar," Lamorak sang.

"Mighty my foot," Arthur said with a groan.

"To battle, men!" Palamedes suddenly ordered, leaping nimbly over the log.

"Palamedes, you're insane!" Lamorak called, startled Palamedes had just thrown himself into it like that. Quickly he went after his friend. Safir snapped into action next, worried for his brother, and followed after Lamorak.

"Teamwork! Use it!" Gawain warned them, quickly scrambling out of hiding, followed by the rest. Arthur groaned, following last.

KAK

Lancelot paraded behind his team as they pelted their rivals with fake arrows. "Good job guys, keep the arrows flying. As long as they're pinned down, they can't do anything," he said.

"I feel like we're going to need more of a plan than this, Lancelot. What about when we face them hand-to-hand?" Tristan said in warning.

"Don't get in my zone!" Lancelot snapped. Calming down, he said, "Still, you have a point."

"We goes out dere and smash'em inta paste," Bleoberis said.

"How, Bleoberis? They'll be fighting back, and you know how they can be," Brunor said.

"Yeah, really. They have the smartest one of us all, Lucan, _plus_ Gawain, Safir, and most importantly, Palamedes and Lamorak," Astomar remarked.

"They also have Arthur," Gareth said, smirking. "I'm pretty sure we've got this in the bag. They don't stand a chance."

"Blitz them," Mordred suggested.

"And that would work how?" Loholt bit. Mordred frowned at him.

"We're only little, Mordred, we won't be able to do much," Ywain ageed in concern.

"If we rush out with swords drawn and swinging, we might grab an advantage. Pelleas won't be a problem. He's hurt, remember? One solid blow to his side and he's out for the count," Breunor pointed out.

"And if we're met by Palamedes, Lamorak, Gawain, and Safir?" Bedivere asked.

"Them? Really? What can _they_ do?" Kay said with a scoff. He'd totally agreed with Arthur's 'weak team' remark.

"Sir, squires Palamedes, Lamorak, Safir, and Gawain are all stronger than you think, sir. Lamorak is the best of us, after Lancelot and Tristan. Following him is Palamedes, then Safir is _not_ one to be underestimated, and Gawain is potent when motivated," Degore militaristically said. Turning to Lancelot he added, "Lancelot, permission to take on Lucan, sir!"

"You just doesn't wants no one ta break his head," Bleoberis stated. "If de wimp can't take his lumps, he ain't worth de trouble."

"Shut it, Bleobeis!" Lancelot ordered.

"They're coming," Mordred said, peering out.

Lancelot turn quickly, eyes wide. Dammit, led by Palamedes, Lamorak, and Safir no less. Because luck just wasn't on his side today, apparently. "No time to come up with a plan now. Blitz them, and if you lose so help me I'll skin you all alive!" Lancelot shot. He wasn't coming in second place to _Arthur_. With that he leapt over, the others quickly following.

KAK

The two groups raced at each other, eyes filled with determination. "Just beat it," Lamorak sang, instantly leaping at Tristan.

"Whoa!" Tristan exclaimed, barely getting his sword up in time.

The enemies clashed, according to Arthur's plan. Lancelot and Bleoberis, attacking together as a team, barely processed that Hector and Lionel were targeting them and that it was a mind trick before they had to fight back. They knew it was a trick, all right, but how could they hurt their relatives?! Lionel and Hector were young compared to them! They went to attack, but each time either of the boys cried out or squealed, they pulled back and the duo struck hard and fierce. The cousins were forced onto the defensive and they weren't happy about it.

"Stand down, soldier, and surrender," Degore ordered Lucan, but he was obviously worried about his best friend.

"A highly improbable outcome, old chum," Lucan retorted, smirking and attacking Degore. "Arthur, your plan is working!"

" _Arthur's_ plan!?" Lancelot exclaimed in shock. He gasped as Hector almost got him, but Bleoberis covered for him and gave him glare.

"Yeah, Arthur's plan," Gawain stated, swinging at Mordred. "Back off, Mordred. You don't want to hurt me."

"Don't I?" Mordred shot. With that he swung, hitting Gawain's leg with his blade and making his brother cry out in pain. It was exaggerated, Mordred knew—a dull practice blade couldn't hurt _that_ much—but the sound flustered the child and he lost his timing for barely a moment. It was enough, though, and Gawain was on him in a second making him squeal.

Bedivere backed away from Pelleas worriedly. "Man, are you sure you should be fighting? Maybe you should sit this out," Bedivere insisted.

"Fat chance, Bedivere. I'm ready for this," Pelleas replied confidently. The theory that Bedivere would take it easy on him had been spot on, and it was going to cost his opponent now.

"Really Arthur?" Kay questioned, seeing Arthur facing off with him determinedly.

"What, I'm not good enough for you?" Arthur sneered. "You're as bad as the jocks."

"I _am_ a jock," Kay retorted angrily. "Besides, that's not true, and you _know_ it!"

"Then fight me!" Arthur ordered.

"If you insist," Kay replied. He met Arthur head on. He looked impressed as Arthur blocked the blow and struck, prompting him to dodge. Had Arthur gotten better? He kicked, sending Arthur into the ground painfully. Arthur grunted. Kay looked slightly worried for a second, guard going down, and Arthur attacked once more.

Tristan blocked Lamorak's attack. "You're good," he said. Exceedingly so, he inwardly added.

"Surrender and this will be so much easier," Lamorak replied in singing speech.

"You know I won't," Tristan replied.

"We'll see," Lamorak said, smirking. He suddenly pulled off a move so complex and swift and graceful it was almost like he was dancing! It was enough to quickly turn the tables on Tristan, and now Lamorak had the upper hand.

"Really? _You_ against _me_? Arthur's lost his mind if this is his plan," Astomar said, laughing at Dagonet's attacks.

"You sure you should be talking, Alymere? After all, I've beat you before. _With_ you trying every dirty trick in the book," Dagonet retorted with a wink. Alymere's smile fell and Dagonet lunged. For a jester, Dagonet was really, really good, apparently.

"Man, where'd you learn to fight?" Alymere asked in disbelief.

"Trained with Arthur at the palace then at school. He insisted," Dagonet replied with a wink. Arthur to this day had no idea how much that honor had meant to him. Nor would he ever probably.

Palamedes danced around Gareth smoothly. Gareth scowled furiously, trying to keep up. "Hold still, coward!" he finally ordered.

"Dost thou cry, _enough_?" Palamedes questioned.

"Thou shalt be digging thine own grave if you're not careful," Gareth threatened. He threw out his foot, tripping Palamedes. Palamedes, however, managed to roll. He shot up and faced Gareth, instantly ceasing to focus on footwork. Now was time to fight. Gareth was dead serious.

"If thou dost insist," Palamedes replied. With that, he lunged, and Gareth was so taken aback that he instantly fell off, backing away and trying to defend. Palamedes was fast, he knew, and while so was he, Palamedes was quicker. And more skilled. And that meant trouble for him. Trouble he doubted he could weather this round.

"No fair, you're older than me!" Loholt insisted to Safir.

"You're right. And I'm going easy on you," Safir replied, smirking. Loholt started then frowned, unimpressed. He attacked with renewed vigor, which briefly threw Safir off, but quickly he recovered again. "Hey, did you know I can fight Palamedes to a standstill if I'm in the mood?" he said, smirking. Loholt gasped, paling and freezing. Uh oh… Oh he was so dead.

"This is cheating! You're my brother!" Ywain whined at Yvain.

"So? Sorry, brother, but this is war," Yvain sang innocently.

"Fine! Then I won't go easy on you either," Ywain, indignant, replied before all but leaping on his brother and wrestling with him viciously. Yvain squealed but fought back valiantly. And unlike Ywain, _he'd_ held onto his little sword…

"Putting up a good fight there, kiddo," Breunor said to Bors.

" _I_ learned from Lancelot," Bohort boasted.

"Yeah? Well guess what?" Breunor said.

"What?" Bors asked guardedly.

"Lancelot doesn't know _this_ trick," Breunor said, grinning wickedly and whipping off his shield, bashing Bors with it light enough that he wouldn't be hurt badly, but hard enough he'd be staggered. His working with sword and shield in tandem threw Bors completely off. Lancelot never used shields, so he had no idea how to fight against Breunor's syle.

"Hey!" Bohort protested as Brunor slashed, almost getting him. Bohort lunged at him again in the hopes of landing a hit. "Shield's are cheap!" he said when he struck only said shield.

"Big deal. They're allowed," Brunor replied, cutting at him quickly. Bors leapt back with a gasp. Oh, this was _not_ going to go well.

KAK

Within moments, Lancelot's team was beaten. Arthur was amazed. Palamedes had been right. He hadn't left off unimpressed. If nothing else, he now fully understood, albeit reluctantly, why most of the underdogs hadn't been as underdog as _he_ had been. "Whoa. That was amazing. We won!" Arthur exclaimed.

"You won't be so lucky in round two," Lancelot ominously warned.

"Bring it," Pelleas replied, smirking.

As the groups separated, Lancelot muttered to his team, "If I know _them_ , they'll stick to what works. That leaves _us_ to change it up. Keep it matched up or unfair, stay away from best friends and families. The only even match _there_ was Lamorak and Tristan."

"Pray for your sake this works, Lancelot," Mordred growled.

"It will," Lancelot replied, eyes narrowing coldly at Mordred.

"What matchups do you plan on?" Tristan questioned.

Lancelot looked back, pursing his lips. After a moment he replied, "Bleoberis against Yvain, and Loholt again Bors, Brunor against Lucan, Ywain against Lionel, me against Lamorak, Gareth against Safir, Tristan against Palamedes, Kay against Pelleas since he's not in the mood to show mercy it seems, Bedivere against Hector, Degore versus Dagonet, Astomar against Gawain, and Mordred will take Arthur."

"What?!" Mordred freaked, one of the rare times he so outwardly lost his cool. "I'm little and so is Ywain! If I was older my skills would probably be more than Arthur's, 'cause he's a loser and a sorry excuse for a thinking being, let alone a warrior king, but I'm _not_ older!"

"That's enough, Mordred! You're facing him and that's final!" Lancelot yelled, losing his temper with Mordred. The remark had surprised him a bit, it had sounded like he was semi-parroting something someone had said to him about the dork king, but Lance couldn't say he disagreed, so whatever.

"Where do you get off putting down my little brother, huh?!" Kay shot, suddenly stepping in and grabbing Mordred by the shirt, lifting him into the air as Mordred squealed. "Arthur's improved in his skills, trust me I know. We always used to fight. He has improved in leaps and bounds! I've fought you before, and I'm willing to say flat out that even if you were his age, he would be more than adept at giving you a run for your money! You'll see soon enough what Arthur can do."

Mordred squirmed defiantly. "Put me down! Gareth, help!" he cried.

"Shut up, Mordred! You're making it worse for yourself!" Kay snapped.

"Kay, let my baby brother go now or so help me!" Gareth cut in, stepping quickly up to defend his brother from Kay. Things were about to get heated.

"Enough! Stop chewing on each other and start chewing on the enemy!" Lancelot snapped at them. Kay and Mordred glared at one another. Kay's eyes darted to the scowling Gareth, who was ready to have at him at the drop of a hat.

"Fine," Kay finally growled through gritted teeth. "We'll see if you behave, brat." He put Mordred down. Ywain and Loholt worriedly looked at Mordred then glared at Kay, their eyes narrowed.

KAK

The whistle blew and the groups charged out, eyes set determinedly. Arthur's team was going for the weaknesses again, as Lancelot had predicted. "Now! Break formation!" Lancelot ordered. Immediately his team divided, heading towards the matchups Lancelot had given them. Yvain slid to a halt with a terrified gasp on seeing Bleoberis barrelling down on him. He screamed in terror and pain as the giant tackled him. Desperately Yvain tried to utilize his blade, but no dice. It was like a mouse fighting off a lion. Yvain struggled, trying to bite and scratch and tear, losing his sword. Of course he stood no chance. Yvain was only small, Bleoberis was ginormous. Soon enough the little boy retreated in terror, beaten. Oh, this wasn't good. Bleoberis laughed cruelly.

Bedivere ran at Hector, teeth gritted. Lancelot's half-brother would be one heck of a pain in the neck to finish off, but he could manage. All he had to do was pin the guy's arms and Hector would be done for. He was a good bit older and _way_ bigger than Hector, after all. He was about Bleoberis's size in fact, but less muscular. Hector was ready, teeth gritted, and with a battle cry he lunged, drawing the blade. Bedivere gasped. The boy was good. He hardly had time to get up his _own_ sword. In fact, Hector was fighting so quickly and desperately that Bedivere was having trouble keeping _up_. All at once, though, Hector made a desperate lunge. Bedivere dodged and grabbed him by the arms. Hector cried out as Bedivere tore the sword from his hand and tossed it away. "You lose, Hector," he declared, locking him. Hector growled lowly but accepted the defeat.

Brunor and Ywain tag teamed viciously against Lucan and Lionel, who were both ganging up on them in turn. Neither side planned to lose, of course. Brunor knew they had to attack weaknesses. If he had had just Lucan to worry about he could have tackled him, but as it was he _didn't_ have just Lucan to worry about, and Ywain wasn't going to stand a chance tackling either of their opponents. He thought out his strategy. If he could grab either Lucan or Lionel, the other would yield, refusing to hurt their teammate. But he also had to watch Ywain and ensure he wasn't doing too badly against Lionel at the same time. Damn, babysitting sucked. He glanced over at Ywain, trying to figure it out. Ywain met his eyes and nodded, tossing his head at their opponents. Brunor started. Had Ywain been thinking along the same lines, he wondered? Whoa. The kid was more advanced than he'd thought if that was the case. Probably had to do with Uriens. Regardless, if Ywain was giving the go ahead, he'd go ahead and trust the kid could keep himself out of trouble long enough for this to be pulled off. Brunor and Ywain attacked viciously, herding Lucan and Lionel backwards. All at once Lucan tripped over a root, crying out in alarm! Brunor smirked. Herding had worked. He'd expected Lionel to end up the human shield, not Lucan, but this was fine too. Viciously he dragged Lucan up and held him in front of himself, shouting, "Come on Lionel, come at me!" Ywain leapt away from Lionel and returned to Breunor's side, grinning excitedly and victoriously.

Lionel gasped and stopped, staring wide-eyed at his partner. "Accost him, Lionel, forget about me!" Lucan furiously ordered, hating himself for being caught that easily.

Lionel desperately pondered his choices. Soon, however, he lowered his blade. "I… I won't," he answered, looking down and dropping the short sword. If this were a real battle they would both be dead or prisoners, he realized with a grimace. Although between the two options he'd rather be dead than a prisoner. He'd… he'd been there and done that… He had nightmares of that time to this day…

Gareth confronted Safir with a cold smirk. "Oh no, it's the safety boy! I'm so scared. Oh, please don't hurt me," Gareth sarcastically pled. Safir growled lowly and attacked with a battle cry. Eyes widening, Gareth became serious. Safir wasn't one to be trifled with, apparently. Desperately he went to work blocking the blows.

"You're going down, Gareth!" Safir furiously yelled.

Gareth viciously pushed him back. "Not this time! This time you guys are all ours!" he retorted. He lunged, tackling Safir, and viciously the two scrapped on the ground. Safir should have, in theory, been a match for Gareth physically, but instead he found himself distracted with all the ways in which wrestling could go horribly wrong and get him and Gareth both killed. He stopped focusing, attention shifting to not getting his head cracked open on a rock or some other such thing, and soon enough Gareth had him pinned and beaten. Safir, shocked, pulled away scowling, dropping from the fight. Gareth smirked victoriously.

Degore and Dagonet faced off icily. "No mercy!" Degore militaristically yelled.

"Too bad," Dagonet replied with an excited and playful glint in his eyes. "I would have spared your life."

Degore blinked blankly. After a stunned second he replied, "Doing so would be your death in a real battle." Immediately he lunged. Dagonet gritted his teeth and fought back. Degore knew that Dagonet was the less skilled fighter, but he wasn't ready to show the jester mercy on that basis. He'd seen how herding worked for Brunor and Ywain against Lucan and Lionel. Why not for him? He backed Dagonet slowly towards a small hill nearby. Dagonet was none the wiser. All at once Dagonet stabbed at him. Degore pulled back then lunged with his shoulder, checking Dagonet. Dagonet cried out in terror, toppling down the hill he hadn't even known was there. He got onto hands and knees gasping, and looked up at Degore in shock. "Strategy, soldier, is key, and victory will be ours!" Degore called down to him before turning his back and walking off.

Dagonet frowned, huffed, and stood, brushing himself off. Just then he heard something rustle in the bushes and gasped, turning. Was this another troll? No such creature appeared, but he heard a scratchy giggle sound from somewhere… The noise made him shiver. Uncertainly he headed back up the hill. Whatever was down there, he wanted no part of it. If it were a siren or a nymph, it could mean a boatload of trouble for them all. "Where are you going, young man?" a voice hissed, gruff and evil and barely audible. Dagonet gasped and spun. In the bush he saw glowing eyes! Immediately he bolted with a yelp, hoping he was just seeing, and hearing, things. Maybe he had a concussion! Yeah, that was it. Just a concussion.

Tristan lunged at Palamedes, but Palamedes was extraordinarily talented. Tristan knew his current opponent was probably among the most balanced of them, which meant among the most flexible when it came to styles. Palamedes parried and thrust, but Tristan blocked with his blade. If he could get the upper hand physically, he would win. The Saracen was too quick with a sword, though, and one heck of an archer too. What was he, part elf? Actually, that was more likely Lamorak. _That_ guy's speed, grace, and agility had 'elf' written all over it, but unless Pellinore had scored with an elfin maid—he guessed it was possible, but seriously?—that probably wasn't the case. Tristan lunged. Palamedes rolled out of the way. Tristan took the opportunity and pounced, catching him when he was on the ground. "Now I have you!" Tristan exclaimed, viciously attacking.

"Releaseth me!" Palamedes indignantly ordered; but he knew he'd lost this round. Sure enough, Tristan had beaten him within a few seconds. Palamedes staggered up, put out, and retreated to the sidelines sulkily.

Lamorak wasn't fooling around, Lancelot knew. He'd almost been taken out multiple times already. The bard was swift and deadly, and one heck of a bladesman. Lancelot blocked another attack with his sword. He couldn't win speed wise, he doubted he'd be able to catch Lamorak to use muscle, but he could use trickery. All at once he ducked low and swung his leg, tripping the would-be troubadour. He tried to pounce, but Lamorak rolled back and hopped nimbly up. What was this nonsense, Lancelot agitatedly wondered? He growled lowly as Lamorak held a blade to his throat, ready to take victory. Quickly, however, Lancelot said, "Okay, I submit!"

Lamorak looked shocked. "Excuse me? Can you repeat that? Lancelot du Lac surrendering? It's unheard of!" he replied.

"Hey, I guess you're right," Lancelot replied, and Lamorak knew he'd walked right into that one. All at once Lancelot had stabbed upwards, blade pressed to the singer's groin. In a war he would be dead, so he was on the sidelines now.

Lamorak blinked in surprise, looked down, then looked back at his opponent. "You _can_ be clever," he remarked admiringly, backing away. Lancelot rose, smirking. A compliment from Lamorak. _That_ was rare. He'd take what he got. He looked around at how the others were doing, proud of how this was all shaping up.

KAK

Alymere viciously stabbed at Gawain over and over. Gawain wasn't even breaking a sweat defending himself. "Why won't you die?" Astomar demanded.

"You know me better than that," Gawain replied, catching Alymere's sword and sending it up into the air. Easily he caught it in his free hand and held both blades crossed over his neck. With one motion, in a real battle, Alymere's head would be gone. All Gawain had to do was make that move and he was out. "Yield," Gawain ordered.

"What?" Alymere asked, shocked. Was Gawain sparing him?

"I've never liked to kill. Yield," Gawain repeated.

Astomar was silent, debating this. Now, many others would choose death; after all, prison and torture weren't the most pleasant things around. But Alymere was the sort that would do anything to keep his life. If it meant torture so be it. He could take it. If you were alive, you still had a chance to escape. Finally, he replied, "Yield."

"You're a brave man, Astomar. Brave but foolish," Gawain said, smirking.

"Tell me you wouldn't do the same," he replied.

"My reasons would be different than yours," Gawain answered.

"Oh yeah, you're the self-punishing type, aren't you?" Alymere said. He had one more trick, though. All at once he drew a dagger and slashed. Gawain could hardly cry out before it had 'crossed' his throat. Gawain gaped at Alymere in shock. Alymere was far from a clever opponent. How had he come up with that?! Then again, Alymere was also opportunistic—he'd picked up tips from Agravaine, Gawain always believed, because this was a typically Agravaine sort of trick to pull—and this time Gawain had paid for it. Taking his sword and handing Alymere's back to him, he walked to the sidelines without a word. Alymere smirked. When Gawain was silent, it usually meant he was admiring someone. He'd never been on the receiving end of his silence before, and it felt good. Man, Agravaine knew where it was at in being sneaky and opportunistic. He should try listening to the guy more often. He wasn't a fan of Agravaine, but Agravaine was a snake, and a serpent's tricks could be useful in a pinch. Trickery and deceit were Agraviane's strong suits.

KAK

Pelleas was pale as Kay played with him. He knew it was playing, like a cat with a mouse, because Kay was a far better fighter than this, and he was wicked powerful. Almost super-human in fact. It was a little freaky. "End it already!" Pelleas shouted finally, sick of the psychological torture. If this was a real war it _would_ be psychological torture.

"Don't think so," Kay replied. Viciously he struck Pelleas' side with the blunt edge of the sword. Pelleas screamed in pain, collapsing to the ground and sobbing, holding his ribs tightly. He wished it had been the sharp end. If it _had_ been, he could have gone to the sidelines. As it was, the face of a blade wasn't lethal. For a moment Kay looked as if he would back down, eyes concerned, but this was a simulated war. No mercy. The others on the sidelines were watching now, though, slightly worried. The teacher's pursed their lips tightly, debating within themselves whether to pull Pelleas.

"Kay, please!" Pelleas exclaimed, seeing Kay's expressionless look. He raised his blade up, blocking Kay from driving his elbow into his chest. It didn't stop it from hurting. "Come on, man, you're going to break my ribs!" he exclaimed desperately. Kay debated once more within himself what to do. He'd made his point, he supposed, and he didn't want to hurt Pelleas more than he already was.

Finally, Kay replied, "If this were a war, you'd be suffering a lot more than that. Yield and this ends. In a real battle, yield isn't even a word to most, and I would be one of them."

"I yield!" Pelleas exclaimed desperately. Kay rose off him, waiting for him to rise. Pelleas tried but quickly collapsed again, gasping in pain and clutching his ribs. Kay sighed and bent down, helping him up and to the sidelines.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to get that rough," he remarked quietly.

"N-no problem, all good," Pelleas replied, though it was obvious it hurt him to speak.

"Look Pelleas, take a break and don't do anything. Don't talk, don't walk, just rest. Those need to recover. The forest is dangerous," Kay said. Pelleas nodded weakly. Kay retuned him to the sidelines to Safir's furious, glowering scowl. "What?" Kay challenged him with a sneer. Mistake. Immediately Safir launched into a lecture that had him thoroughly shamed in seconds, eyes fantically darting around looking for a way to escape it. Wow the guy had a serious protective complex going on over Pelleas. Probably stemmed from big-brother instinct, with Kay's luck.

KAK

Loholt and Bors scrambled after each other. Well, Bohort scrambled after Loholt, who was fleeing and trying to avoid him. The kid wasn't stupid. He knew he had the short end of the stick here, because Bors was a lot bigger than him. He just had to stay 'alive' until he figured out how to handle this. Bohort was all on a pious spiel, Agavaine said, which meant he was big on mercy and forgiveness? But Loholt didn't like to exploit that trait because he thought it was very noble, personally. There were other weaknesses Bors was bound to have, though. Like his family. But his family were all not on the field anymore. They'd finished their battles. Hmm… What he _could_ do was get Bohort to think he was predictable. Bohort would then try to catch him off guard, but Loholt would be ready. Bors wouldn't even know what hit him! Yeah, that's what he would do.

Loholt kept running in a predictable fashion to avoid Bohort. Bors broke pattern only moments later to try and cut Loholt off. Loholt acted, ready for him to pull a stunt like this. He dropped to the ground, sliding, and slashed at his opponent, making Bohort yelp and stumble away in alarm. Too close to sentitive bits! Way too close! Loholt rolled quick and leapt onto Bohort's back, stabbing over his shoulder at the heart. In real battle, he would have killed him, and judging by Bohort's stunned stillness, he realized that too. "That was… surprisingly advanced," Bohort said after a minute.

"Arthur and Charming taught me!" Loholt cheerily said.

"Really?" Bors asked, surprised. Loholt nodded and dropped off him, trotting happily to the sidelines quite proud of himself. His family smiled at him and praised him, ruffling his hair. Bors followed him there, still a bit surprised that Loholt had sought lessons from Arthur even over his own brothers.

KAK

"You've lost, Mordred. Give up," Arthur ordered viciously, blocking Mordred's attacks which were growing steadily in fury. He was toying with the kid, honestly. He absolutely hated to admit it, but he was highly impressed. As a small child Mordred was _this_ good? Arthur had no doubt that if he didn't have the size advantage, and experience, this would be a much more serious fight.

"Never!" Mordred vehemently yelled back. Viciously he tackled Arthur's legs, knocking the young king to the ground. Arthur gasped and rolled out of the way of Mordred's attack, the blade plunging into the ground.

"We're not trying to kill each other for real here!" Arthur shot. Mordred pounced on him like a little gremlin, viciously trying to tear into him. Arthur, now slightly concerned at the vehemence of the attacks from the kid, dropped his sword and tried to pry Mordred off his face. "Get off!" he screamed, shoving Mordred over his head and sending him rolling down the same bank Dagonet had gone down. Arthur gasped, turning quickly to make sure he hadn't hurt his small nephew.

Mordred was staggering up. Arthur's eyes narrowed and he leapt down the hill, charging Mordred. With a war cry he grabbed him, knocking them both into the stream. Slipping and sliding, the two tore at each other. They heard a commotion up above. The other students were getting worried, and the teachers were getting agitated. This was escalating fast. Mordred was suddenly above Arthur, shoving him under water and holding him there with his entire body weight, using a stone as a way to push down and not be easily thrown off. Desperately Arthur reacted, kneeing upwards and knocking Mordred off, winding him. Arthur came to the surface, gasping for air. " _Seriously_ kid?! Drowning?" he demanded in anger and a measure of unease and agitation.

"You don't go down easily, do you? Kay was right. You've gotten better," Mordred said, gasping. This kid was far too serious, dark, and jaded for his age. It concerned Arthur greatly. It was almost like Morgause had been _especially_ vehement with Mordred, when whispering hatred and poisonous words about Arthur to her children.

Arthur drew his sword and held it to Mordred's throat. "Yield. Yield or I swear to god I'll end this," he threatened in a growl.

"With a blunt blade?" Mordred bit back, but he knew he was on the verge of losing to the older boy. Arthur was also much bigger. Age and size were his uncle's advantage. Mordred was the youngest of them all. Well, he, Loholt, Yvain, and Ywain.

"What? I meant end it like end the duel, not like kill you!" Arthur said. "Where even did you come _up_ with that idea?!"

"I'm not going down, 'Uncle' Arthur. Not without you!" Mordred shouted. Alarmed, Arthur gasped and slashed viciously. Not soon enough, though, because before he could even move, Mordred's blade was jabbing right in the groin area, an almost certain death. Arthur felt it break skin and was for a second terrified, but it seemed like last minute Mordred stopped himself from inflicting actual serious damage. The two blinked blankly at each other. Finally, Arthur rose, silent and a bit shaken by what had just happened. And uneasy. Mordred rose tentatively as well. "Mercy is for the weak. That's what killed you," the child said.

"How would _you_ know? You haven't lived long enough to try it," Arthur replied coldly. And goodness knew _Morgause_ wasn't an advocate of pity. They glared at one another a long moment before Arthur scoffed and turned, making his way up the bank towards the others. Mordred didn't follow immediately, but eventually pursued. Every one of the others was shocked silent, including the teachers. There was no way Arthur would have fought that desperately against anyone else. That he'd had to battle like that against one so much younger and smaller than him worried them all.

"Alright then," Galehaut said, visibly stunned as he looked at Mordred. He was the first to recover from the shock well enough to speak, though, so he had to take the lead here. "Well done. All of you. Now we will return to the campsite." The boys followed wordlessly, still a bit unnerved by the battle they'd witnessed between the young high king and his little nephew...

KAK

The boys sat around the fire pit silently as their teachers gave them feedback. "The plans on both sides were solid, but Arthur, more often than not the same plan doesn't work twice in a row. And Lancelot, never ever blitz the enemy with no plan whatsoever," Galehaut stated.

"Your combat skills appear to be coming along very well. When used against each other," Ector said. "Try putting those abilities to work against the _actual_ enemy instead of tearing yourselves to shreds, and you'll really see improvement."

"Dagonet, why are you looking around like that?" Pellinore suddenly asked, noting Dagonet's distracted gaze. The others looked to Dagonet curiously.

Dagonet blinked then blushed. Uncertainly he replied, "When I rolled down that hill… I thought I heard a woman giggling in the bushes across from the stream. It sounded so scratchy, like sandpaper, and at first I thought I was hearing a bird or had gotten too close to some animal's creek, but as I began to climb back up she spoke in a creepy voice to me. I looked back and saw glowing eyes watching us. I ran."

"Why didn't you tell us this earlier?" Ector demanded, now looking concerned.

"I didn't think it was a big deal!" he replied. "I thought I might have just been seeing or hearing things. I hit my head going down that hill and figured it might be a result of that."

"Harpy, maybe," Lancelot remarked, looking guardedly around.

"Or a witch," Gawain remarked, ponderously holding his chin between two fingers.

"Whatever it was, we'd better be on our guard," Meliot declared. "It's time to take some extra precautions."

"The fool that would be king will protect us," Mordred sarcastically said, referencing Arthur.

"Would be? I _am_ King," Arthur shot.

"And you're a great one, uncle. I'm in awe," Mordred faux praised.

"Must you two consistently jabber and taunt?" Lucan asked in exasperation.

"Here we go," Breunor groaned, holding his head.

"Hey, I don't have a father to teach me this stuff, Mordred. I actually had to learn on the job!" Arthur barked.

"Oh yeah. Your daddy took off on little baby Artie, didn't he?" Mordred asked with a sneer. "He knew _exactly_ what his son would become. A failure!"

"You're one to talk!" Arthur furiously yelled, instantly defensive and hurt.

"I didn't end up an abandoned, orphaned brat passed to Merlin then forced on Ector!" Mordred shot.

"No, you didn't. You ended up the outcast bastard that nobody ever wanted _instead_! I mean at least with Loholt Lot had the _choice_ of whether to adopt him or not. You were just the baggage that came with your psycho mom's infidelity! I'm not the only one who didn't know his father, am I kiddo?!"" Arthur snapped sharply back.

Mordred started, looking stung. He didn't move and said nothing a moment, breathing heavy and quick now like he was trying not to break down. He failed. "I _hate_ you!" he let loose and screamed, tears in his eyes.

"You _would_. Hatred's all you know! Your own _brothers_ can't stand you half the time!" Arthur shot back.

"Well your daddy couldn't stand _you_!" Mordred shrieked furiously. All at once he leapt up and ran into the woods before anyone could move.

"Mordred, wait!" Loholt called after him, instantly worried.

"Mordred!" Gawain fearfully called after his brother, running to try and catch him.

"If he goes out there alone, he's a dead man!" Bohort exclaimed. Well, dead boy, though sometimes you could be fooled given the way he spoke. The kid was… jaded for his age. Too jaded.

"You bastard!" Gareth shouted at Arthur, attacking him. Gawain slid to a stop. Dammit, now he had to help the other brother! Immediately he lunged, seizing Gareth and pulling him off Arthur. "Where do you get off telling a child that?! How dare you speak for us, 'uncle'! Well now guess what! If our brother gets hurt, his blood is on _your_ hands, Arthur, _yours_! Damn you to hell!"

Arthur was too stunned at the attack to react. "Someone should go after Mordred," Astomar uncertainly declared, uneasy at the tension in the air now.

Immediately all eyes fell on Arthur. He blinked. "No, oh no. No way!" he shot.

"You'll go, and you won't argue," Lancelot growled lowly, voice quaking.

"Come on! Someone please back me up," he begged. "Kay?"

"Not this time bro," Kay replied. "You were out of line and _I_ recognized it, which should tell you something."

"Reap what you sow, Arthur," Dagonet answered, frowning. Arthur looked guiltily after Mordred, then sighed and walked away.

KAK

"I hate him, I hate him!" Mordered screamed out loud, kicking a tree. But what if Arthur was right…? He stared at the tree, mouth quivering, then sniffed and leaned his head against the bark. "Who's Uncle Arthur to talk anyway? He doesn't even _know_ his mommy and daddy hardly, only Grandma Igraine. I haven't even _heard_ his daddy's name yet from him," he said to himself quietly. "He thinks he's so hard done by… You're not the only one who suffers, Arthur, you're _not_! The world doesn't revolve around you and your woes!" he furiously yelled, walking a little further. Of course, there was no response. Mordred stopped walking. His mouth quivered again and he looked up at the sky. He was done with this. He needed to go home… Or to the school. Whichever he reached first. "Arthur should just go back to Far Far Away and spare everybody grief. No one wants him here anyway… And why doesn't he change his Kingdom's name? Far Far Away is a stupid name," Mordred complained out loud. Worst of all it was probably where he needed to go before he could even _get_ home or back to school. He should probably start heading there now. Before it was too late in the day to.

Mordred tried to take another step. Nothing happened, though. He gasped and looked down. What he saw made his eyes widen in horror. He was knee deep in sand! Wait… Quick sand! "Oh no!" he cried out in alarm and terror. Viciously he tried to pull free, struggling. That only served to sink him lower into the pit. "Help!" he cried desperately as it reached his waist. Mordred desperately clawed at the ground; roots, vines, grass, anything, vehemently trying to pull himself out of the pit. "Help! Help me! Help, please!" he screamed again, starting to cry and fearing no one would find him. He cursed himself a thousand times for storming off when Arthur had finally gotten a backbone and hit too personal. Uncle had just _had_ to push it. The sand was pulling him under. Even Bleoberis would look good now. "Help!" Mordred cried once more, in a desperate last attempt at salvation. A chilling thought pricked at him. No one would ever find his body or know what happened to him…

KAK

Arthur, meanwhile, walked sulkily through the forest, kicking things and grumbling, "Stupid Mordred, stupid teachers. Oh Arthur, you hurt poor wittle morbid Mordred and made him wun away. Go after him and apowogize and hold his hand and tell him everything will be okay. Well guess what, Mordred, it's _not_! Life's unfair and cruel! Get used to it!" All he heard was an echo. After a moment he sighed. "Mordred can take care of himself. I shouldn't have to babysit. Heck, he's probably halfway to Far Far Away by now," Arthur complained. The kid was pretty decent at fighting after all, and he knew how to navigate the woods for sure.

"Help!" he heard a voice cry out just then.

He gasped, sharply looking up with eyes worried. That was… that was Mordred's voice! "Mordred!" he called, breaking into a run without even thinking about it or wondering why. "Hold on, I'm coming!"

Mordred heard the voice and gasped, looking up. No way. It _couldn't_ be him. As if it mattered now anyway. He was neck deep and going down fast. No way would Arthur make it. Mordred did the last thing he could. He stuck up a free hand and cried out for help one last time as he disappeared in the sand. Just as Mordred's head disappeared, Arthur burst onto the scene and gasped. Quicksand! Dammit, he forgot Mordred was too young to have taken that class! He'd probably tried to struggle. A surge of desperate protection from god knew where washed over Arthur. He'd never _experienced_ such a surge before. Kind of unnerved him and made him wonder why suddenly his protective instinct was going haywire, jumping way beyond overdrive for a nephew he despised. Instantly Arthur looked around for a vine and grabbed the first one he saw that looked relatively strong, tying it around his waist just in case. He then ran for Mordred.

He slid to a stop as close to the sand as he dared get, flattened himself out, and reached for the boy's disappearing hand, stretching as far as he was able to. "Hang on," Arthur said through gritted teeth. "Gotcha!" he exclaimed, finally reaching the child and firmly grasping him. He grunted, trying to pull Mordred out. He was making progress, but barely. He knew he only had moments left before he would be pulling out a body. He wasn't going to make it alone! In fact, he felt _himself_ starting to go under as well! Finally, just as all seemed lost, something happened. Arms reached out, wrapping around Arthur, and began to pull him back from the quicksand. Arthur gasped and looked back. His eyes widened. " _Balin_!" he exclaimed. Oh he'd never, ever been happier to see his friend than he was right now! But if _he_ was here, did that mean IAK wasn't far? Balin smirked worriedly, not answering. Just then Mordred's head broke the surface, coughing and gasping for air. Slowly, steadily, Arthur and Balin pulled him out. The three boys collapsed onto the ground panting, Arthur tightly holding Mordred in his arms as the child wept and clung to him, gradually calming down. "Hey, it's okay, it's okay," Arthur soothed softly, rocking Mordred as comfortingly as he could manage, petting and smoothing his hair gently. It felt awkward to be doing so for someone he'd just lashed out at, but hey, the kid was still practically a baby! A baby who'd just almost died. Who _wouldn't_ protect and soothe him after a trauma like that?

"Oh wow dude, is he okay?" Balin asked.

"I don't know," Arthur replied.

"Man, what happened?" Balin asked.

"We got into a fight and things got ugly and hurtful," Arthur replied. "I… kind of sent him running and crying?"

"Bro, seriously? He's like… four. Or five," Balin said, raising an eyebrow at Arthur.

"He brought up my dad, okay?!" Arthur replied.

"Oh… That makes sense. I guess," Balin said.

"Thank you!" Arthur said. "Finally someone gets it!"

"Uh huh. What did _you_ bring up that sent a baby running into the forest crying?" Balin said.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at him, unimpressed. Balin grinned cheekily. "Bite me," Arthur bit. Mordred continued sniffling and Arthur looked down at the child in concern. "Ugh, I've got to be the unluckiest bastard ever." He was so going to eat it for this.

"Hey man, I sympathize with you. I'm like the _poster_ boy for unlucky. Heck, they call me Balin the Ill-Fated!" Balin said.

"You're probably not even in the same league as me," Arthur said.

"Don't bank on it," Balin answered. He turned, looking at Mordred who was calming down finally and watching him. "Hey kiddie, you're fine now," Balin said.

Finally, Mordred stopped crying and clinging to Arthur. He looked up at his uncle with big, tearful, wide eyes. "You _saved_ me?" he said in disbelief and awe.

"Of course I did!" Arthur replied vehemently.

"But-but _why_ uncle?" Mordred asked. "You said you hated me."

"Uncle? Oh yeah, forgot about that. Ooh, ouch. Sent your toddler nephew running and crying into the woods? Harsh enough, Arthur?" Balin incredulously asked.

"Don't go there," Arthur warned, scowling at him. He turned back to Mordred. "Come on, Mordred. Cut me a break. Look, I may not be the best uncle around, or the best person, and Anna probably has made me sound even worse, but you're still my nephew! We're family. Family sticks together. Or they _should_. I guess it doesn't always pan out like that, though…" Mordred suddenly hugged him tightly. "Uh, am I forgiven?" Arthur uncertainly asked, wrapping his arms tentatively around his nephew in return.

"No," Mordred replied, muffled against the fabric of Arthur's clothes.

There was silence. After a moment Arthur said, "Look, I'm sorry. I went too far, okay? I said some stupid things."

"You weren't the only one," Mordred replied as he crawled off Arthur's lap, sat cross-legged, and began to try and get the mud off himself. Arthur shrugged, saying nothing, and reached out to help clean the little one up a bit. "It's okay," Mordred finally remarked.

"Thanks kiddo. Let's just get back to the other guys and forget this happened, agreed?" Arthur asked, standing and offering a hand to Mordred. Mordred looked warily at it but then took it. Smiling, Arthur helped him up.

Mordred blinked then smirked a little cautiously, but also with a hint of hope. "Follow me, I know the way back," the child said.

"This time don't walk into the quicksand," Arthur replied. "Lead on, kiddo." Playfully he ruffled Mordred's hair.

Mordred shoved his hand off. Okay, he could loosen up a bit maybe. For now. He guessed he didn't need to be a jerk twenty-four seven. Wait… He looked over at the third boy, who had been listening quietly, and blinked. "Why are you even here, Balin? You make Arthur look like a four-leaf clover," Mordred asked.

Arthur looked back too. Balin blinked blankly then grinned innocently and awkwardly. "Ah, but I was lucky this time!" he immediately said, standing up and dusting himself off.

"Oh yeah?" Mordred bit at Balin.

"Arthur was about to fall in _with_ you before I came along," Balin said.

"Watch where you're standing," Mordred deadpanned, pointing.

Balin looked down and cried out in alarm. He was sinking! "Help!" he cried out.

Arthur began to move. "Leave him to sink. One less rival to deal with from the Irish Accomodations of Knighthood," Mordred said.

"Hey, the guy helped save your life! You don't have to help me help him, Mordred, but I'm doing it anyway," Arthur said. Quickly the king grabbed a stick and held it out to Balin. Balin seized it desperately. Arthur pulled. The stick broke. What the… How did that even happen? Oh, despite its thickness it had rotted. Wow, this guy really _was_ unlucky. Maybe Balin was right in saying he was worse off than him. Arthur looked around then seized a firmer branch, holding it out. Balin, waist deep, seized it. Arthur began to pull. This time it held. Mordred sighed and moved forward, reaching out and grabbing Balin's hand as he drew closer to solid ground, helping Arthur to pull him out. Not that he was doing much in comparison to his uncle and Balin even, but it was something at least.

"Phew, thanks," Balin said in relief.

"I owed you," Arthur replied. "So, what the heck _are_ you doing so near our camp?"

Balin immediately stiffened and shifted, wincing. "You're spying on us, aren't you?!" Mordred demanded. "Who else is with you, Balin?!"

"N-no one!" Balin exclaimed.

"Liar!" Mordred shot.

"No, I'm serious… Okay my twin brother Balan is somewhere around here, but no one else!" Balin insisted.

"Right. Your better looking better half of an identical twin," Mordred sneered. Because that was possible, apparently.

"Something tells me you two didn't just decide to coincidentally begin lurking in the nook of the woods where the Worcestershire group is," Arthur said flatly.

"And I doubt it's only you two!" Mordred added.

"Alright! Your brothers Gaheris and Agravaine are around here somewhere too, but come on Mordred, cut us a break!" Balin insisted.

"Who sent you to spy?" Mordred interrogated.

"Mordred, please…" Balin began.

"Shut up!" Mordred snapped.

"But I…" Balin began.

"I said shut up!" Mordred barked. How the heck was a tot controlling a guy like thrice his age and size, Arthur dryly wondered? Mordred was a little spitfire.

"Easy, Mordred. We'll take him with us and maybe Sir Ector, Sir Meliot, King Galehaut, and King Pellinore will be able to get information. If he's really spying on us, whatever, but the fact is he saved your life, and in a way mine, so he can't have too malicious of intent towards us," Arthur said.

"Exactly! You just happened to be in the area we were scouting. I mean it this time! Even _I_ couldn't come up with a lie that bad," Balin said. "I'll be your prisoner, just cut me some slack."

"I do like the sound of prisoner…" Mordred mused. "Fine, you're coming with us. But try to run and you'll pay." Balin nervously nodded.

"Seriously, dude? He's a pipsqueak," Arthur said.

"Yeah, and he's Agravaine's favorite brother. You don't wanna mess with Agravaine bro. Heck, you don't want to mess with _any_ of Mordred's brothers," Balin defended.

"Oh brother. Lame excuse, friend," Arthur said.

"Don't undermine my influence!" Mordred protested.

"You have no influence!" Arthur sharply shot as the three of them headed off.

KAK

"The camp is just through here," Mordred stated, pushing through some bushes.

"Wow, how far did you _run_?" Arthur asked, panting. He'd been too busy searching for Mordred to notice the distance before. Mordred smirked.

"What are you doing out here anyway? A little off route, don't you think?" Balin asked.

"We were training for confrontation with the other houses before we actually started actively looking for them," Arthur said.

"What part of rival spy don't you get?" Mordred bit at Arthur.

"Not like he can do anything with the information," Arthur replied. "Even if he brought it back to his dormitory, we'll have switched camps by the time they get there."

Mordred opened his mouth to retort, but all at once he cried out in terror and alarm as something seized his ankle and lifted him into the air! "Mordred!" Arthur and Balin exclaimed together in shock.

"Put me down! Help!" Mordred cried, struggling. Not again. A moving tree!

"Whoa, not cool!" Balin exclaimed, drawing duel weapons. Arthur blinked at him in surprise. Wait, Balin was a duel wielder? Nice! He turned back to the tree, focusing on it instead for now. It was the bigger issue, at the moment.

"You there, unhand him!" Arthur commanded, drawing his blade and shield.

"By whose authority?" the tree asked.

"Mine! Arthur, King of Far Far Away! Man, I've _really_ got to change its name," Arthur replied.

" _I'll_ say," Balin wryly agreed.

"King? You?" the tree asked. Darkly it laughed at Arthur as Mordred stared in fear. "I think not. All hail the son of Morgause! All hail Mordred!"

"Psst, who's Morgause again?" Balin whispered.

"Older half-sister. It's complicated," Arthur answered. "Can we get back on subject please?"

Balin grinned innocently then turned to the tree. "Yo, why hail Mordred?"

"Even if I _am_ Anna's son, Arthur is still King," Mordred agreed, sneering at the talking tree.

"'Twas Morgause's birthright," the tree declared. Arthur and Mordred stiffened. Mordred stayed wisely silent.

"Birthright?!" Arthur finally blurted, after getting over the shock of hearing this. "I'm the only son of Uther Pendragon! She _has_ no birthright! Uther wasn't her dad," he protested. "And even if she _had_ a birthright, Gawain…" Arthur paused. Actually, Gawain would get Lot's throne… That wasn't the point, though! Gaheris would get it after Gawain!

The tree darkly chuckled and dropped Mordred. Balin ran to catch him in his arms only to trip over a root and face plant. He groaned, cursing his luck, then scrambled up and pounced, just barely catching the kid. Mordred blinked blankly. "Thank you," he said, slightly surprised that Balin had bothered to catch him.

"Ugh, no problem," Balin replied, rubbing a sore nose.

"Let's go before anything _else_ happens," Arthur stated as Balin and Mordred returned to him.

"Yeah… Sure," Mordred agreed. But his thoughts were still on the words of the tree, confusing him very much. He didn't understand what it was saying… He didn't like not understanding. Quickly the three hurried off. Arthur, like Mordred, was lost in thought. When did residents of Far Far Away start believing Morgause had a claim to the throne, he uneasily wondered? He didn't like the implications of it…

 _Sister, what did you do…?_

"Hail the son of Morgause. Hail the son of Morgause," the tree eerily repeated again and again from behind them until they were out of earshot.


	5. The Youth With the Golden Ring

The Youth With the Golden Ring

The others heard Arthur and Mordred returning. "About time," Hector said in relief.

"We were about to start searching," Astomar added.

"We're fine. Barely," Arthur cynically replied, coming out of the woods. "All three of us."

"Three?" Bleoberis asked.

"Guess what _we_ picked up," Arthur dryly said, gesturing back at the bushes. Balin stepped nervously out and awkwardly grinned.

Immediately protests rang out. "Quiet down, quiet down!" Meliot ordered.

Mordred came into sight just then. "What happened to our brother?" Gareth demanded, eyes widening on seeing Mordred's muddy appearance.

"Yeah Wart, what's the scoop?" Kay asked.

"Kay, not in front of the guys!" Arthur exclaimed, horrified at the use of his nickname.

"Wart? What's the story behind _that_?" Balin questioned. Kay and Arthur both tensed up, grimacing and exchanging looks.

"We'll talk about this later," Arthur grumbled in embarrassment.

"Enough. Gareth and I want answers! What happened to Mordred?" Gawain shot.

"Run in with quicksand," Arthur dryly remarked, looking down at Mordred's mud-covered body.

"Quicksand? Wow!" Lionel exclaimed in shock.

"How did he get _out_?" Hector wondered.

"Me," Arthur replied.

"You? _You_ saved him?" Gareth incredulously asked.

"He's my nephew! Of course I did!" Arthur shot, frowning as his temper flared.

"With help from me," Balin added. "Arthur nearly got himself trapped too, trying to save Mordred, but I was able to help pull Mordred out. Take that, bad luck."

"You got stuck promptly after," Mordred dryly reminded. Balin winced and face-palmed.

"Never mind that. What possessed you, Mordred, to skip _that_ safety class?" Safir demanded, unimpressed with the lack of safety awareness.

"Get off his case, Safir," Gareth bit.

"I'm too young to have taken that class yet, and when Ector was doing a summary I didn't come because me and Loholt just had a run in with Bleoberis. I wasn't in the mood to hear it," Mordred replied.

"Sorry guys," Bleoberis said, looking a little sheepish. Arthur blinked. Had the guy just _apologized_ to Mordred and Loholt?

"Bleoberis never attempted to pick on Mordred and Loholt again," Gawain said, glaring at Bleoberis. Bleoberis winced. Yeah, having Gareth, Agravaine, Gaheris, and Gawain all leap down his throat hadn't been pleasant.

"Enough, boys, they're back again safe; that's what matters," Ector declared.

"Are you okay, Mordred?" Ywain worriedly asked.

"I'm okay," Mordred confirmed, nodding.

"And now we have the added responsibility of young Balin," Pellinore said, shaking his head.

"I can totally go back to Gaheris, Agravaine, and my bro," Balin lamely offered. "Need to get back to IAK anyway."

"I don't think so. These woods are filled with various creatures this time of year, all of them at peak power. You're staying near to us and in fact leading us _to_ your fellow spies. They _cannot_ be out here alone without the protection of a larger group. They could get themselves killed," Galehaut said.

Balin paled, immediately worried for his twin. "Say it like that, I guess I'm with you, dude," he replied immediately. Loyalties meant nothing to him when his brother's life might be on the line. Gaheris and Agravaine he wasn't overly fond of, but hey, might as well get all three of them back, safe. Something told him he was a prisoner now anyway, so he didn't have a lot of refusal options here. Soon Balan, Gaheris, and Agravaine would be 'prisoners' too unless IAK showed up in time to pull them all out.

Just then they noticed Gawain pacing around the camp, looking restless. "Gawain, what is it?" Meliot asked.

"Can't you hear it?" Brunor questioned hollowly for Gawain, startling them all. They turned to him. He was gazing into the fire intentely. It was actually kind of eerie. "Gawain and I saw something. He went to check. He doesn't hear it, but _I_ do. Someone, _something_ , is watching us…" He shivered.

"La Cote Male Taile, what's wrong?" Kay demanded.

"La Cote Male Taile?" Lamorak asked.

"'Tis his nickname for Brunor. It means the Ill-Fitting Coat," Palamedes replied, pointing out the coat Brunor was wearing.

"She-she's picked…" Brunor stammered in the same eerie tone, as if he'd been put into a trance. "She's chosen her consort amongst us."

"Get Gawain away from the woods!" Pellinore ordered, quickly rising. Worried now, the other boys rose. All except Brunor.

"Gawain is safe… She sees someone else she likes better…" Brunor said.

"Balin behind yous!" Bleoberis suddenly cried out in terror. The others whipped around to look at Balin. Balin turned swiftly but hardly had time to gasp before something grabbed him tight! He cried out in terror as he was dragged into the woods.

"Let him go!" Arthur shouted after the thing that had taken Balin and pulled him away.

"Get it!" Lancelot ordered.

"Why dost he not fight?" Palamedes exclaimed.

"The wretch is unluckier than _Arthur_. Whatever creature that is probably has him under a spell!" Lucan stated.

"Fight back soldier, fight!" Degore ordered as they all gave chase. Galehaut shook Brunor to snap him out of his daze. For a moment the boy looked confused before catching his breath as he registered what had happened. He quickly leapt up and ran after the others along with Galehaut.

KAK

Balin felt dizzy as the creature pulled him farther and farther from the others. What was it? He tried to clear his head of the cobwebs, so he could piece it together. He managed to clear his mind just enough to figure it out. Hagraven! It was a Hagraven! He gasped and tried to pull away from her, but she must have cast some sort of spell on him because he couldn't get free! "H-help me…" he quietly whispered, trying to cry out. His voice wouldn't work. No, this wasn't going to end like this! He had to fight back! With a sudden burst of adrenaline, he pulled away, falling to the ground free of her.

She growled and turned on him, teeth bared. "Insolent boy. You will come with me whether you want it or not; and you will be either my consort or food for my sisters."

Balin, teeth clenched, glared up at her. "Bring it on," he challenged in a low voice. And she did. With an unholy shriek, she lunged for him! He tried to move only to collapse with a cry as all his strength was sapped from his body. He almost cursed. She'd cast a spell on him! She'd cast a spell, and now all he could do was hope he survived long enough for the others to intervene in time. He closed his eyes tightly and braced himself.

"Get away, hag!" a voice suddenly shouted. Balin's eyes flew open with a gasp. There, up on a cliff ledge, stood a boy around his age with fiery red hair and an Irish accent. Said boy leapt down and slashed the hagraven. She screamed and leapt back. She dove at him, but he moved around her, blocking her attacks and fighting valiantly. The kid had talent, but it wasn't refined well so the hag was slowly getting to him. Balin felt the spell starting to dissipate and began to try and move again so he could help. Just then Palamedes and Tristan sprang through the bush—the first two to reach the scene—and saw the battle. Instantly they joined the third boy in fighting off the hag. It took only seconds before she was driven away with an enraged and hybrid sound, something between a shriek and a roar.

Tristan, Palamedes, and the stranger pursued her, but didn't leave Balin's sight, stopping just short of the treeline to watch and make sure the creature wouldn't come back. After a few seconds, they determined it was probably safe to return their weapons. They did so. Panting, the three summed each other up warily before returning quickly to Balin, who was just managing to stagger up. The stranger took his arm to help stabalize him. He looked at the guy in disbelief before nodding a cautious thank you. The stranger smiled worriedly back. Just then the others arrived. "Balin, are you okay?!" Arthur exclaimed in disbelief, running to his friend.

"F-fine, thanks to this guy," Balin replied, surprised. Said guy stood back a bit uncertaintly, watching them.

"'Tis thy name name, stranger?" Palamedes quietly asked him, tentatively approaching.

The boy looked a moment uncomfortable, shifting slightly, before relaxing a little. "Me name? I was called Stephen," he replied. "Servause was me… well, me birth name. Stephen is probably easier t' remember though."

"Your… birth name? Tristan asked, immediately suspicious. Why had his name been changed? Was it of his own volition? "Where do you hail from?" Tristan asked.

Stephen, Servause, was quiet. Soon he replied, "Ireland. I'm… I'm an escaped slave, one o' three hundred youths and maidens sold to the Irish king Anguish annually. A compensation for some battle I've long forgotten the reason for. I was raised in slavery there and finally…" He trailed off, pausing. Soon he sighed, closing his eyes. "I got tired of it, okay? I escaped and stowed away on a boat heading somewhere. I had no idea where. But it was caught in a storm and destroyed. I managed t' swim t' shore. I don't know what happened t' the others, but I haven't seen a soul o' 'em since so I assume they're dead. I've… been trapped in these woods a long time… A real long time… You're the first people I've seen for longer than I'd care t' admit…" It was probably a miracle he was talking to them at all, but he'd been starved for human contact a long time now. If he was nothing else, he was bold. Bold enough to take _this_ chance, at least. Tristan was obviously furious. Balin looked appalled at the mention of slavery. He recalled that tribute, but to see and physically meet one of the slaves that belonged to King Anguish, Morholt's _boss_ … It was a little jarring. "I'm on me own now," Stephen said.

Arthur, on hearing this, inwardly winced. Before he could even think it through, he solemnly said, "Not anymore you're not. Come with us. We're students of Worcestershire Academy on a field trip. Follow us and we'll bring you back to the school where you'll be safe and taken care of. You can even improve your fighting there, get a proper education! We… we can protect you." The others looked at him in vague surprise, still not used to this kingly side of Arthur that kept peeking through every time you forgot it was there or chalked it up to fluke.

"I-I have no money, nothing," Stephen replied.

"It doesn't matter," Tristan said firmly, answering for Arthur.

"Totally dude!" Balin added. Arthur nodded at them approvingly. There were two people, at least, backing him up with this decision. How would the others take it now?

"R-really? Are ya serious?" Servause asked, looking a little hopeful. Having a place to stay, being around other people again, getting a formal education? These were things he'd begun to think he'd never have… Well, he'd been educated by his master, but as established it wasn't formal. Not that it was bad, just not formal!

"You're sentimental. We have too many of those. You should go," Mordred said. That earned him a strike up the back of the head from Gawain. "Ow!" he protested. He gave his brother a dirty look. Gawain just glared warningly at him, unimpressed. Mordred thought about protesting, then decided that probably wasn't for the best and fell silent with a pout. Loholt, Ywain, and Yvain snickered at him. Mordred shot them all a spiteful glare.

"Welcome to the, well, won't call it family, but welcome anyway!" Dagonet said, smiling. Arthur inwardly sighed in relief. Seemed the guys were open to this call too. _That_ was a massive relief.

"I'll show you the ropes, bro! It's the least I can do! I mean I'm not like the most studious guy around, but hey, whatever," Balin said. "Gods know I owe you _that_ much. I mean you like, totally saved my life, dude."

"Then he's under your wing, Balin," Pellinore said, smiling.

"Welcome to King Arthur's Squires," Lancelot dryly said with a roll of his eyes.

"Lacks a ring to it, but it'll do for now," Arthur remarked. Lancelot frowned at him then shrugged, letting it slide. It wasn't worth the breath it would take to point out he was being sarcastic.

"All right, one more for the team," Bedivere said cheerily. "Well, two if we count Balin."

"For now you do," Balin said, shrugging.

* * *

 ** _A NEW CHARACTER EMERGES_**

 **Servause le Breuse/Stephen, the Youth with the Golden Ring:** Stephen is a boy they find in the woods, soon after the unlucky Balin is nearly kidnapped by a hagraven. He saves Balin's life and the others learn he is an escaped slave of Ireland. One of three-hundred, in fact, who were given to King Anguish as an annual ransom for some won battle from long ago. Immediately Arthur welcomes him into the group, swiftly backed up by an indignant Tristan and a very grateful Balin, with whom he clicks. The two become fast friends. Stephen's immune system is the stuff of legend and he always stands up for those who are being made into the underdog. He wears a golden ring at all times, around which various theories are floated. Some suspect the ring is the source of his legendary immune system, some suspect it's the source of his luck. Servause loves to keep them guessing. He has no intentions of telling them the truth any time soon. He is a semi-pacifist, notorious for rejecting battles with men in favor of battling giants, dragons, and wild beasts.

 **Parents:** [REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

* * *

"Like this, see?" Balin said as he wrote a sentence. Servause watched carefully then copied. "Not too bad," Balin remarked, smiling. "You catch on quick."

"I did have _some_ education in Ireland," Stephen replied, smiling. "Reading and writing were for the nobility, though."

"You're getting the hang of it," Balin assured, smirking. Probably best he didn't mention he was from a dorm house sponsored by King Anguish. Or that his dorm father was Anguish's enforcer Morholt. That the others hadn't said as much either was probably a good sign he was making the right judgement call. Stephen grinned.

"All right, break time. Come on up, Stephen, and let's see where your skills are," Ector declared.

Servause rose and went towards him, drawing his blade. "Against who?" he asked.

"Me," Meliot answered, going to him and crossing their blades. "Come, child, let's see what you can do." Immediately he struck. Servause gasped and blocked, then set his eyes determinedly. He struck back immediately and roughly, backing Meliot up. Meliot blocked a strike and lunged, swiftly pushing Stephen back with slices and jabs. Servause held his own, but he was becoming uncertain. He struck again recklessly, and Meliot had his sword to the throat almost the next moment. "You're good," he remarked.

"I lost," Servause said, looking down.

"Not one of these boys has beat a teacher _yet_ ," Meliot assured, chuckling. "With a little practice you'll be swinging that blade like a champion." Stephen grinned excitedly.

"Nice going, man," Astomar complimented.

"Thanks," Stephen replied, swinging the blade around. "The spear or the bow and arrow is where I really shine, though." He snatched a spear and threw it powerfully. Lamorak screamed in alarm as the spear barely grazed his head. His heart was pounding practically out of his chest.

"Some shot," he bit sharply.

"I hit it right on," Servause protested, pointing. Lamorak and Palamedes turned, only to see a bee impaled by the tip. Their mouths dropped.

"Behold, all yon knights. Here amongst us walks the lion-hearted Achilles in another form," Palamedes said in awe.

"Not quite," Servause replied, smirking. "But I needed to hunt _somehow_."

"Nice," Balin said in disbelief.

Pellinore—once his heart stopped pounding out of its cavity from his son's close brush with the spear—swallowed and said, "That was… impressive. But next time, don't throw in the direction of a student."

"Especially not if that student is Lamorak," Loholt added, snickering. Stephen looked confused. "Lamorak's his son," Loholt explained, smirking.

Servause paled a bit. Oops… "Uh, any other family ties I should be aware of?" he asked.

"Oh yeah. Buckle in," Pelleas said. Soon enough the family ties were being laid out for him one by one.

KAK

By the time everything, or a good portion of it, was laid out, Stephen's head was reeling from the complicated mess. "Now to get back to the matter at hand," Pellinore said. Stephen was low-key relieved that the subject was turning to something else now. "You mentioned, Balin, that Balan, Gaheris, and Agravaine were with you out here as well."

"Oh, right, yeah," Balin said.

"Then we have to find them," Ector said. "Before something bigger does."

"I want answers from Balin first. Why were you four in these woods so close to us in the first place?" Galehaut questioned.

Balin stiffened immediately. "We were… camping…" he lied.

"Liar!" Mordred shot, drawing his sword.

"Whoa, easy!" Balin exclaimed. "We were, err, well… Spying on you guys!"

"I knew it!" Mordred exclaimed.

"Typical. Send the slummers to keep an eye on the guys out of their league," Astomar said.

"Hey! _Who's_ slumming now? I'm sorry, but I think that would be me," Balin said, a bit put out at the dig against his dorm house.

The Worcestershire crew burst into laughter. Balin blinked and winced, shrinking back a bit. "Leave him alone," Stephen defended, frowning. Balin was inwardly grateful to him for that.

"Enough, boys," Meliot warned. "We need to focus on finding Balan, Gaheris, and Agravaine."

"There'll be no need for that, Meliot," a new voice said. The Worcestershire crew leapt up, alarmed. From the forest emerged the IAK students on all sides, surrounding them with blades drawn!

Balin smirked, visibly relaxing. "About time," he said, rising and heading towards his brother Balan.

"Wait, you _planned_ this?!" Arthur demanded, indignant.

"Oh please, Artie. You think _I_ could have planned something like this? Nah. This was a group effort," Balin said, brushing Arthur off.

"When we saw who Balin got picked up by, it was time to step it up and get our boy back! Leave my own bro a captive of war? I don't think so dude," Balan stated.

"Speaking of brothers in distress, oh my god, Mordred, are you okay?!" Gaheris shoved in, immediately going towards his little brother. Agravaine was quick to follow.

"I'm fine," Mordred replied, slightly surprised at the sudden turnaround.

"We heard about the quicksand. You could have gotten killed! Why did you run off?!" Agravaine demanded. All Worcestershire eyes went to Arthur. Arthur stiffened and blushed bright red. "Of course, why am I _not_ surprised?" Agravaine growled, glaring murderously at Arthur. "What did you tell him, uncle?!"

"Look can we not get into this right now?" Arthur asked, looking guardedly around at their rivals.

"We'll fill you in later," Gawain said to Gaheris and Agravaine. "Right now, I'd like to know what, exactly, your plan is for us."

Just then they noticed Stephen looking pale. "Servause? Dude?" Balin asked curiously, raising an eyebrow.

"M-Morhaus…" Stephen stammered, eyes fixed on Morholt in uncertainty and fear. Morholt's gaze on Servause was equally as intense and fixed.

"There you are," the enforcer replied.

"Oh god!" Servause exclaimed, backing swiftly away and into Tristan.

"What's wrong?" Tristan demanded. Wait. "The tribute," he realized immediately.

"Morholt, might we ask what's going on?" King Bagdemagus asked, raising an eyebrow at Morholt warily.

"Anguish's enforcer had an alternate agenda is what's going on," Tristan furiously hissed, eyes blazing.

KAK

The two groups faced each other steadily. Worcestershire were herded together in the middle, surrounded by IAK, but the tone changed with Tristan's statement. "Morholt, what does he mean?" Daniel asked, speaking up uneasily.

Morholt looked around at the students of IAK then sighed through the nose, pinching the bridge and closing his eyes, considering his words. Soon enough, he looked up at them once more. "I'm afraid I've used you all to my own gain," he answered. He turned to Bagdemagus. "Forgive me, your majesty, for my deception. The reason I agreed to join this competition was not for as noble of reasons as I made it sound."

"What do you mean?" Bagdemagus asked, a chill shooting down his spine.

"I joined you for the purpose of tracking down the escaped slave, Stephen. You and your boys have done very well in finding him, I must say. My compliments," Morholt stated.

"What? But you told us we were looking for a lost treasure!" Alisander exclaimed, obviously angered at this declaration and slightly unnerved.

"I lied," Morholt deadpanned,

"You told them what?!" Bagdemagus demanded. _Treasure_ was why they'd been so dedicated to this game?! Here he'd thought they'd finally clued into how important it was, but instead it had just been greed? The students of IAK gaped in shock, visibly uneasy now. What had they just done…? What would happen to this slave now that Morholt had found him? Had they just sent a boy like them to his death or worse?!

"You won't take him back as your captive!" Tristan viciously shot, drawing the dull weapon he'd been given for this competition. It wasn't ideal, but it was something. He could work with something.

Morholt looked coldly at Tristan then faced Servause. "For so long I've searched to find the escaped servant, the survivor… Finally, I have you… Was I truly so bad a master that you felt you needed to flee, Stephen?" he questioned in a softer tone.

Servause bowed his head and put a hand on Tristan's wrist, pushing it down. Tristan looked at him confusedly. Why was Servause making him lower his weapon? "No… Y' weren't a bad master…" the boy answered. Murmurs went through the IAK group. Their dorm father had had a child slave only _their_ age?! What the flip?! That was just messed!

"Then why did you run?" Morholt asked.

Servause looked quickly up, fear in his eyes. Swallowing dryly, he answered with breaking voice, "It wasn't from ye I ran, sir."

"What?" Tristan asked icily.

Stephen licked his lips nervously, shifting. "Listen, not every single one o' the three-hundred slaves were given to Anguish. They were sold to others as well. I was one o' the few Morhaus kept for himself. He saw potential. I was a slave, aye, but he made me a squire and had me tutored! Morhaus wasn't a bad master… But one o' those associated with him _was_ … He didn't see me as a squire, he saw me as the slave I was and ensured I was treated as such, even down t' literally wipin' his backside. It was horrible… and humiliating… He said if I ever went t' Morhaus about it, he'd kill _me_ or the man himself. I needed t' get out somehow… So I ran… I ran but he pursued. He sunk the ship I was on… All those people died because o' me… I wouldn't go back, though, so I made it look like I died. Except I didn't die, I ended up in these woods where I've been living and hiding," he narrated.

"Oh wow, that sounds horrible," little Constantine said, eyes wide.

"You don't look surprised at this, Morholt," Petipace remarked, glaring guardedly at Morholt with eyes narrowed darkly.

"I didn't seek out Stephen to drag him back to Ireland a slave. I caught wind of the member of my court's offense shortly after he returned from sinking that ship. He got drunk one night. He boasted it up, boasted up all he had done to that boy and other slaves of mine… Of all he'd _intended_ to do to the 'beautiful lineup', in his words." Servause caught on and paled. Brandelis caught on about the same time, body going rigid. He suddenly looked paler than Stephen. Quickly enough the others got the meaning as well, say for the little children, and looked horrified. "I had seen this boy's prowess. I didn't believe he died when that ship went down… Nor did the member of my court, who vowed to seek him out and drag him back… I turned the man away, but not before he swore to find my squire. So, I mounted my own search to find him first, and to protect him as I should have been able to before… The Squire and Knight relationship is not a one-way street for the Squire. They do not give and get nothing back."

"Y' never once let me try and lay me life on the line for you," Stephen said, still looking down.

"Not if I could help it," Morholt answered. "As you well know from the assassination attempt on me that you tried to foil and nearly got killed for."

"Y' stepped out, just as the assassin was going t' kill me… Y' said you'd surrender to him if he let me live…" Servause remarked quietly. "I wouldn't leave, not even when y' ordered me away. The assassin was impressed at your willingness t' defend a Squire, and at that Squire's loyalty t' you… Is that why he let you live…?"

"It was," Morholt replied. "That assassin, for the record boys, happened to be none other than Meliot."

" _Meliot_?! _Meliot_ was the assassin?!" Accolon blurted in shock. All eyes shot over to the man, who'd been playing dumb this whole time apparently, in disbelief. Meliot ignored the glares, taking them like a class act.

"Well, _this_ has certainly changed the tone of things," King Caradoc dryly said.

"Whoa, whoa, let's slow things down a bit here! This is too much information in too short a time with too little background! Let's just step back, sit down, and start from the beginning!" Alexander exclaimed, hoping to find a happy medium.

"I believe that might be wise," Bors the Elder agreed, nodding.

KAK

The two rival schools, plus the elementary children, were seated together now, hostility gone in favor of story time, so to speak. "I will take the lead in telling the tale," Morholt declared.

" _This_ should be good," Tristan icily said.

Morholt glared at him but didn't grace the boy with an answer. Instead he started to speak. "It began many years ago with a tribute ship, owed to Anguish by King Mark of Cornwall, that I had gone to collect. On the ship was a pregnant young woman who had been molested by a sailor during a lengthly stopover in England. When the crime was found out, the sailor was swiftly and severely dealt with, though too late to prevent the woman's pregnancy. On the way back to Ireland, she went into labor pains on the sea and gave birth to a child who she named with her dying breath. Servause. The child was lucky to survive. The woman's body was dumped at sea and my men insisted the child join her. After all, we hardly had the amenities needed for childrearing. Especially when the infant was still messy with fluids and now did not even have a mother's milk to feed him. It was a majority that voted to throw the boy into the sea. As I held the newborn, though, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I refused to dispose of him and had all the women brought up to the deck. I questioned each to see if any were producing milk. Finally, a woman whose baby had died only very recently stepped forward, saying she still was. I handed the child off to her and commanded her to take care of it as her first task. She gave him the name Stephen. So the boy grew up in servitude. When he was around age eight, I began to notice his talents. The child's immune system was the stuff of legend. A good thing too, because one day he decided to go gallivanting about in a sick ward filled with patients suffering from a quickly quarantined bout of plague. It seemed he couldn't help but go everywhere you specifically forbade him from going, the little bastard."

Stephen sheepishly grinned, shrugging as Morholt glared at him. "Go on," Carados pressed.

"It was around that time I took him under my wing as a Squire. My last had been killed only recently. Stephen was simply another expendable who would not last long… But he did, and he learned quickly, and he took his duties very seriously. At first, I hardly cared… And then in battle I was very nearly killed, close to death, but the boy came and dragged me into the woods out of sight and pulled me all the way to someplace safe where he was able to tend to my injuries. He nursed me back to health and I was grateful… And then guiltstricken on seeing a little piece of innocence fade away from his eyes… I wondered for how long it had been happening, and I put my foot down. I felt… protective… Something I had never felt before… He was doing everything for me dutifully, as a slave should, as a squire should, and I was doing nothing for him in return. That changed swiftly. It became _me_ protecting _him_ , _me_ tending to his injuries and sicknesses, _me_ returning to him all the respect and duty he had shown to his master… I admit, a paternal chord was struck in me regarding Stephen."

"It was?" Servause asked, looking quickly up with eyes wide.

Morholt 'hmmed' but didn't directly answer. He wasn't admitting as much out loud again. "Then came the assassination attempt by Sir Meliot. Stephen was sleeping outside my door, as he was accustomed to doing. Meliot snuck up and saw him there. Before Meliot could retreat, Stephen awakened and realized what was happening. He leapt up and attacked. Meliot overpowered him swiftly and went to run him through for standing in his way, but I—who had been roused by the noise—came out just then and saw the price my slave and squire was about to pay for me. The paternal chord echoed, and I called out to Meliot to let the child go. 'Here I am,' I said. Meliot paused, looking at me as if confused as to why I was giving myself over for a mere slave. He let Servause go. Stephen attacked again, but I called the boy off and told him to go downstairs. In tears he refused. I assured him it would all be alright. He didn't believe me… And then Meliot began to speak to me in the Gaelic language, a tongue Stephen did not understand well, questioning me as to the actions. We got to speaking, he left without an action more. Some years passed by, the time period Stephen spoke about earlier. When one of my associates decided to play lord and command my slaves to do his bidding down to the most degrading and menial tasks. I was unaware of this. I know now why Stephen never talked to me about what was happening. You are concerned with me overmuch, boy. To your own detriment in fact, and that needs to stop. It _will_ stop. Regardless, what was happening ended in Servause stowing away on a ship for England, leaving me lost as to what to think or do until my associate claimed Stephen had been killed. Servause has spoken about the rest from there."

The others listened quietly, unsure of what to say to this. "I leave off begrudgingly impressed with you, Sir Morholt," Tristan finally remarked, watching the ground which he found suddenly very interesting.

"Why the deceit? Why the trickery? Couldn't you have just asked us to help you find him, sir, instead of lying to us about treasure?" Tor asked.

"The trickery and deceit was meant to make it appear to others as if I had no other reason for coming to this place aside from helping Bagdemagus show up Pellinore. Or in your cases, making it appear that I had no interest in anything other than riches. It was an excuse my household and my associates would believe, and by extension the man who ill-treated Stephen and who seeks him out," Morholt answered.

"Wait, he's _here_?!" Servause asked, fear springing to his eyes.

"I'm unsure. That was why I needed to find you. To be certain he didn't beat me to you," Morholt said.

The boys looked overwhelmed. Petipace, concerned, seriously said, "I think it's high-time we all turned in. Let's let this sink in tonight. Tomorrow we can make decisions about what to do." The Worcestershire boys said nothing. They just rose and went to their tents.

Pellinore sighed, looked back at Morholt, and nodded. Morholt probably needed to have a long chat with his dorm students, so they would leave him to it. "Stephen, who will you come with?" Pellinore asked.

"I-I'm not sure," the boy answered.

"Perhaps it will be best if you stay with _us_ ," Gaheris said. "Morholt knows what's happening better than Pellinore does."

"That might be wisest," Pellinore agreed, nodding.

"A-alright," Servause answered, deeply upset at the possibility his pursuer might be near.

Pellinore nodded. "Tor, Aglovale, Lamorak, Dornar, Percival, don't stay up too late. Get some rest. You'll need it," he said to his sons.

"Yes sir," Percival replied quietly, uncomfortable over everything they were hearing.

KAK

Tor, Aglovale, Percival, and Dornar, like the rests of the students of IAK house, did not in fact get to sleep early. All of them were still awake and lost in thought even after Worcestershire house had all fallen asleep. Servause of course sat amongst them. "So… _this_ has become convoluted," Alexander remarked after a moment.

"You mean Morholt's secrets?" Accolon flatly asked.

"Yes," Alisander grimly confirmed.

"So, let me get this straight. All of this, or most of it, was a huge complicated scheme wrought with risk and danger—at least should this nobleman you speak of happen to show up with backup and try to take Stephen away—and we were kept in the dark until now?" Brandelis summed up, glaring at Morholt.

"I never wanted any of you to become so deeply involved in this," Morholt replied.

"Well we're in it now, and I don't know about anyone else, but _I'm_ up to the challenge. Danger is my middle name," Aglovale declared. Namely because he wouldn't let it be his _siblings'_ middle names.

"No it's not. Your middle name is…" Percival began.

"Say it, I _dare_ you," Aglovale darkly warned his youngest brother. Percival fell silent immediately.

"It's the eye of the tiger it's the thrill of the fight," Ermind sang, parodying Lamorak.

"Thrill, schmill. Ultimately, it's a problem that needs to be dealt with. I'm not about to have my siblings buried neck deep in danger. If things get heated up, you guys stay out of it. Leave the situation to _me_. I've probably been in worse," Aglovale seriously warned his brothers. Minus Lamorak, who he would be sure to repeat this to tomorrow. All of them looked ready to protest, but Aglovale put up a hand sharply, conveying to them there was no room for argument. They harrumphed but said nothing.

"D-do we even kn-know what t-to look for?" Hoel questioned. Hoel had always been good at quick decision making and strategizing. He was practiced from all those roleplaying games he played with Segwarides, Gures, Xavier, and on occasion Hector. Hector wasn't really all that into roleplaying, but he enjoyed a good geek out session every so often. Actually, Arthur had humored Hoel as well every once in a while. He'd missed his cousin. Family and all that, he guessed. He was glad they were speaking again, but now he was getting sidetracked. Back to the situation at present. "S-seriously, wh-what do we n-need to b-be wary of? We n-need basic details and explanations."

"I'm not sure," Morholt honestly answered. "I just don't know what to expect."

"Regardless, we can count on Worcestershire's help," Bors the Elder said.

" _What_?!" all the boys, say for Servause, exclaimed in outrage.

"Kind of kills the purpose of a rivalry, don't you think?" Galihoden asked.

"Down," Bagdemagus warned. Galihoden winced and frowned, but backed off a bit.

"Can't believe I'm saying it, but I'm with Galihoden," Accolon stated.

"Worcestershire and IAK have been enemies since we came into existence. It would totally break from tradition to, ugh, 'team up'," Dywel said with a grimace. He, like Ermind, was clinging to Geraint and had hardly let him go since being reverted to human. Or let go of the piece of cloth his brother had given him when he was a… a goblin… He shuddered to remember that detail and tried to will it away by snuggling against his sibling tighter.

"Yeah, what Dywel said," Constantine dryly agreed.

"I say let Worcestershire slum around and stumble over each other. We've got this covered," Dinadan, declared. "We may lose the competition, but we'll have dealt with a way bigger problem. Stephen, stick with us. The losers at Worcestershire will get you killed all the sooner."

"It's not as if we're much better than they are, Dinadan," Geraint seriously pointed out.

"Worcestershire are our rivals," Galeschin stated. "Why do we need to work with them?"

"One way or another, with or without them, we have to figure out what we're going to do. It'll just be easier _with_ Worcestershire on our side," Percival said.

"Look, I don't actually give a flying flip which way we go with this, just as long as we all come out of it alive," Sagramore said.

"Here, here," Erec, aka Geraint, agreed dryly. He looked to the fire and tossed a ball of leaves into it like it was a net. The group watched it burn, really hoping it didn't end up a twisted metaphor for whatever happened next.


	6. Introductions

Introductions

(A/N: Not thrilled with this chapter, doesn't flow as well as it could and the battle's kind of sub-par, but next chapter will be much better.)

The boys of WA ate breakfast quietly, tired from the last couple of days and nights. "Hey, Worcestershire!" a voice called out. The group looked up. Gaheris was approaching them with the rest of IAK at his back, while the teachers with them watched from behind.

"Uh oh, trouble," Brunor said, getting ready to grab his sword.

"We're dropping out of this competition. The Servause thing is kind of more important right now. Good luck," Gaheris said.

"Good luck? You're wishing us good luck?" Ywain questioned incredulously.

"Hey cuz, if we can't win it, you'd _better_ ," Agravaine replied.

"Yeah. Good luck," Constantine said, smiling at them.

"Thank y' for everything, all o' you," Stephen said to the Worcestershire group with a smile. "They planned t' help y' all with this situation, but I told 'em you'd already helped me more than enough. I don't want t' be a burden on y'. I said I'd go at it alone, but Morhaus would hear none o' it."

"He's playing you," Tristan deadpanned, glaring at Morholt. "He probably intends to turn you over to him."

"I guess there's no hope for me, then," Servause answered. "Because I'm not puttin' y' all through this. I don't even want _IAK_ t' be put through this, but again…"

"Morholt," Tristan finished for him, glaring stonily at the enforcer. IAK turned and headed off without making trouble, leaving Worcestershire to watch after them.

"Be careful," Yvain called out worriedly. They waved as they disappeared.

Galehaut watched after them then sighed, rising. "Where are _you_ going?" Lancelot asked, sitting up a bit straighter with a wary look upon noticing the man rise.

"With them," Galehaut answered. "They'll be at most risk of running afoul of Caradoc and Turquine. If they do, they'll need my help."

" _We'll_ need your help if we run across them," Hector protested, concerned.

"You won't cross them. They're tracking Servause. They'll have no use for you," Galehaut said. "I'm going. That's final. Meliot, Ector, and Pellinore will be more than enough to keep you all safe. I'll see you back at the docks, when the boats leave." With that he left, the others watching uncertainly and worriedly after him.

KAK

"So, the teachers with us now are King Bagdemagus the principal, Morhaus, and King Bors de Ganis the Elder?" Stephen asked, getting names straight in his head.

"Right," Balin replied.

"And Petipace o' Winchelsea, and the physician king, Caradoc Breifbas of Scotland. Who's this sixth man again?" The one who'd joined them from WA's group without a word for some reason. No one had questioned his appearance and most had even seemed relieved by it.

"That would be King Galehaut of Sorelais and the Distant Isles," Balin replied.

Stephen started, looking quickly over at Galehaut with eyes wide. "G-Galehaut?! The Haute prince? The overlord king who conquered the Distant Isles and Sorelais practically overnight?"

"I take it Anguish is another guy terrified of him?" Alisander, dryly asked.

"What king in their right mind _wouldn't_ be?" Servause asked.

"Arthur," Alexander replied. "But then I'm not entirely sure he knows what Galehaut's capable of. Not really."

"Or maybe he does and that's why he's not afraid," Ermind remarked with certainty.

"You're kidding, right?" Brandelis asked flatly.

"No! Arthur's so cool," Ermind said. Most of the group burst into laughter. Geraint frowned, protectively pulling Ermind close as Dywel glared at the others indignantly.

"You don't make fun of my uncle!" Galeschin protested immediately.

"Arthur's a class 'A' loser, kiddos. Don't know where _you've_ all been, but apparently not on earth," Galihoden said.

"Who's the best fighter out o' all the teachers?" Servause asked curiously.

"Hands down Galehaut," Morholt replied. "Followed by Pellinore, then by me. Though really, it's never as black and white as that. I had thought I'd taught you as much." Servause winced and nodded sheepishly. "There are generalizations, but they won't always hold true. Remember it, Stephen."

"That said, when things get difficult it's Galehaut, Morholt, or Pellinore you want on your side," Bors the Elder said.

" _That_ said, when things get difficult you want the likes of Meliot, Ector, and _Petipace_ on your side more than us," Galehaut corrected seriously.

"Sir, why?" Servause asked.

"Because they're unassuming. Should something go wrong, all eyes will be on _us_. The Kings and the famed, like Morholt," Galehaut said.

"I, as Anguish's enforcer, am well known. I have a target on my back and have had it for years. When people see me, they take notice. Meliot, Ector, and Petipace, though, are not only skilled, but also practically invisible," Morholt explained. "Meliot is probably the farthest under the radar, beating out Petipace only because Petipace happened to fall on the wrong side of King Rience. Few, if any, know of Meliot's existence. He's swift, he's clever, and he has training in espionage and assassination so keeping to the shadows is second nature to him. He's an older version of Tristan and a mentor to Agravaine. Men like Tristan with skill sets like Agravaine are men you want on your side."

Servause nodded then turned to the others. "Could I get a refresher on _your_ names?" he asked.

"I'm Griflet, the cousin of Bedivere and Lucan. I'm studious and very serious about my knight studies," Griflet said. He smirked. "Lucan's jealous of me. Thinks I might one day surpass him in intelligence, but _my_ mental acuities aren't in the same fields as his are, so he really has nothing to worry about in that regard."

"I'm Tor, a son of King Pellinore. Solemn, serious, a little cautious. I keep promises I make and like to do inner reflection, mediation, things like that. I'm a strong fighter both physically and with weapons. I have… a crap ton of siblings." Aglovale chuckled dryly, smirking at his brother. Truer words had never been spoken. "There's Dornar, Aglovale, Percival, and Lamorak. There's a sister, Didrane. Threre was another brother once, Gurgi… He died in childhood…" Tor said. Aglovale's smile fell and he looked away at the memory.

"I'm sorry. About your brother," Stephen said, eyes softening sympathetically. Tor shrugged and stayed quiet.

"I'm Aglovale, the eldest of the siblings Tor just named. I'm the daredevil of the group. If there's a death-defying problem, I'll volunteer for it. Namely because I won't have my little brothers doing so. Not on _my_ watch." The last time one had tried… It had been Gurgi, and Gurgi had died. Enough said. He wasn't losing another… "Besides, easier to do something yourself than to get others to do it, right?" he added, voice a little bit strained.

"My name is Dornar. When asked to describe myself I would say that I'm docile and level-headed… It takes a lot to rattle me and I like to put things in perspective and think them over rationally. I'm what you'd call the voice of reason, and I absolutely do not panic in situations that would usually drive others to. Panic kills more than the actual disasters do," Dornar said.

"And he likes t-to p-point out things in a way that m-makes the r-rest of us feel stupid," Hoel deadpanned. "I'm Hoel, a p-proud nerd. I tend t-to go on about stuff n-no one else has an interest in, ex-except Segwarides. P-probably why I g-get on with him s-so well."

"When it comes to split-second, life-changing decisions, he is your man. He is very genre savvy," Segwarides said, speaking up for his friend.

Hoel nodded a thank you. "I'm p-pretty genre savvy. I'm also Arthur's f-favorite…"

"And only, aside from Fiona who doesn't count," Agravaine cut in.

"C-cousin," Hoel finished, glaring at Agravaine.

"I am Segwarides. My brothers are Palamedes and Safir. I have a sister, Florine. Our father is King Esclabor of Babylon. I am a nerd, a geek, whatever it is you want to call it, but am a whiz with gadgets and gizmos. I am not skilled at building them, but I am very good at drawing plans up and getting more capable ones, such as Lucan, Griflet, or Bleoberis, to build them," Segwarides said. The latter of which usually only did it for a hefty price, so he tended to avoid commissioning him.

"Wait, Bleoberis? Really?" Servause incredulously asked. From what little he'd seen of Bleoberis, the guy hadn't given him the impression of being particularly helpful. Or smart.

"He's dumb as a sack of bricks, Uncle Uriens says, but there's no better blacksmith and craftsman in anywhere," little Galeschin piped up.

"And _you_ will no longer parrot Uncle Uriens, Galeschin," Gaheris said, frowning at his nephew. Galeschin blushed sheepishly.

"Dinadan. Typical rich boy, not afraid to say it. Also have an eye for the ladies," Dinadan said, smirking lecherously.

"And some men," Agravaine cut in, rolling his eyes.

"I'm the brother to Breunor and Daniel," Dinadan continued, pointedly ignoring Agravaine's attitude.

"He goes on and on about all the women he's bedded to the point it's sickening," Daniel bit, frowning at his brother.

"Don't be hating me because I've got what you don't, Daniel," Dinadan replied, brushing his sibling off. He turned to Stephen again. "Look, just stay out of my way, peasant. Can't be bothered with slaves. They're for serving. Kind of the whole point of their lives. I don't care what Morholt or this 'nobleman' you two are talking about did to you or would have done. It was your job to do it," Dinadan said.

"Give it a rest, Din. As I recall, _you_ were the one advocating most passionately, next to Balin and Morholt, for us to help Stephen out," Accolon said, frowning. Dinadan stiffened and glared at him warningly. Stephen started in surprise then smirked amusedly at Dinadan. Dinadan, feeling the eyes on him, grimaced and face-palmed, shaking his head.

"I'm Daniel. Dinadan and Brunor le Noir are my brothers, like Dinadan said. Well, Brunor is our half-brother, but that doesn't matter. He's still our brother. I'm the philosophical bookworm. Quiet, a loner… Half the time people forget I'm even here. Comes in handy, I guess, but sometimes it's a little depressing," Daniel said. Stephen nodded.

"I'm Balin the Ill-Fated, as you know. No one unluckier, sadly," Balin said with a grimace. "Balan is my twin brother and we're undyingly loyal to each other. Mess with one of us, you mess with both of us."

"Balan le Savage, Balin's twin and the lucky one. When I'm not hitting the Frankincense and Myrrh, I'm a bit reserved and something of an oddball. There's not a whole lot to say about me, really," Balan said.

"I'm Accolon of Gaul. I'm a romantic at heart and will fight tooth and nail to gain what my heart longs for," Accolon said.

"Even if what his heart longs for is his best friend's wife," little Constantine flatly said, rolling his eyes. Accolon gave the child a dirty look but didn't defend himself. Servause gave him a dubious and unimipressed glance before shrugging it off and looking to the next one on the list.

"Sagremore le Desirous. I'm a bit impetuous…" Sagremore began.

"A bit?" Brandelis asked with a scoff.

Sagremore shot him a glare but didn't grace him with an answer, instead continuing on his narrative. "As I was saying, I'm impetuous which serves as sort of a detriment to me. I'm kind of Dinadan's runner-up in the matters of the opposite sex, but not half as forward. I wait to _be_ approached. Which happens more often than you'd think. I'm athletic and highly competitive, so I tend to butt heads with Erec, err Geraint, pretty often," Sagremore briefly summed up. "Could tell you more, but hey, don't want to make it too easy for you."

"I'm Gaheris, Mordred's half-brother, Loholt's adoptive brother, and full-blood brother to Gawain, Gareth, Agravaine, and our sister Soredamer. I'm usually level-headed, definitely one of the more mature ones here, and really have no issue with the Worcestershire group. Hence the reason I try to keep the peace between us," Gaheris said.

"Agravaine. Freely admit to being a snitch and backstabber, freely admit no one compares to me in matters of stealth and spying. I'm the best. There's no denying my prowess in espionage and remaining hidden. I'm a rat, willing to sell out anyone and everyone for a price. I get off on it. You'd already belong to that noble if my brother didn't have me on a short leash. Enough said," Agravaine said.

"Maybe I was better off with Worcestershire," Servause deadpanned.

"Mordred isn't much better than me," Agravaine defended, shrugging.

"But when the chips are down, there's no one you want on your side more than Agravaine. He _will_ be loyal if you work to gain his loyalty," Gaheris murmured quietly to Servause. Stephen nodded.

"I'm Galihoden, the Count of Honolan. Nephew of King Galehaut. I'm a straight-A student in politics and am quite accomplished in those circles if I do say so myself. At least when it suits me to be. I've got that _whole_ game in the bag and know how to get what needs to be done, well, done. A closer, if you will," Galihoden said.

"He's also a cocky, arrogant bastard, if ever there was one," Alexander spoke up witih a scoff. He turned to Servause. "My name is Alexander, or Alisander, whichever you prefer. I'm the young and assertive Byzantine Emperor, husband to King Lot's daughter Soredamer. I don't get along with the Emperor of Rome. Or of Persia. Yeah, there's a lot going on over there. It's nice to take a break from my problems and help others with theirs."

"My name is Bran de Lis," Brandelis said. "I prefer meshing it all together into Brandelis for… reasons. I'm not all that big on mercy and decency, so this whole helping you thing? I'm lukewarm to it at best."

"At least you're honest about it," Stephen dryly said. Brandelis shrugged it off.

"I'm Constantine! I'm Arthur's favorite nephew of all. Except maybe Gawain, but probably favorite over him too because my daddy is Uncle Arthur's half-brother and they're really, really close. I'm brave and a natural born leader! At least that's what cousin Gareth says. I'm not afraid to take charge if I have to, you'll see!" Stephen chuckled, smirking at him. Cute kid. Well, all the little ones were pretty cute, but yeah.

"You don't get to claim you're the favorite! Maybe I am!" Galeschin protested.

"No!" Contantine immediately argued.

"Enough guys," Gaheris quickly cut in. Let the others introduce themselves before you have at it. They pouted at him but relented.

Galeschin looked up at Stephen. "I'm Arthur's nephew because I'm his sister Elaine's baby. King Nentres is my daddy. I'm very loyal to my cousins and I like following them on their adventures because they're so cool!"

"Aww, thanks kiddo," Agravaine said, visibly flattered as he grinned at his cousin. "Kind of insulting, but thanks."

"Why is it insulting?" Galeschin asked, eyes wide.

"Because I don't wanna be cool?" Agravaine replied like it was obvious.

"Oh… The others are cool but Agravaine's lame!" Galeschin corrected.

"I don't want that either!" Agravaine quickly said.

"Too late, no taking it back," Gaheris quickly said, laughing. Agravaine shot him an ugly scowl. Gaheris continued to laugh at his brother.

Galeschin looked at Stephen again. "I'm determined and brave. And stubborn Gawain says, but I'm not! I like to be the savior when I play games with my friends and cousins. Saving people is fun. I like doing rescues."

"My name is Percival," Percival spoke up a bit timidly. "I'm always ready to back you up, even if you're my worst enemy. I'm a bit shy and naïve, but I try to be better, I do. I try to do things right! I just… can't seem to be able to as much as I'd like to…"

"He's being kind of modest. Kid strikes with the speed of a snake and stings like a wasp with his little knives. He's good at brewing up poisons to coat those knives with. Non-lethal," Aglovale said. As far as any of them knew.

"Geraint, aka Erec. I'm a sports nut and love all kinds of sports. Ball, war, toss the dwarf, taunt the talking trees, kill the ogre, you name it I'm totally there. One of my goals is to become renowned for my prowess in tournaments and sports activities. As Sagremore's said, it puts the two of us in a lot of conflict. He's all about competition and wants to be the best at everything he does even when he can't. Dywel and Ermind are my little brothers, and I love them to bits."

"Erec," Ermind whined, blushing in embarrassment. He turned to Servause. "I'm Ermind. Bullies like to pick on me because I'm reserved and shy and curious, Erec says, so he tries to protect me but he can't always."

"Oh no? Watch me," Geraint said, expression hardening a bit protectively as he shot a warning glare at the repeat-aggressors in the group. They sneered at him but didn't retaliate.

"Dywel fab Erbin. Love fashion, love styling, love hair dressing. Yes, I freely admit it. No, I don't like other boys. No, I don't like girls. No, I don't like boys and girls both. I'm only five. I don't like anyone! I don't even see what the big deal about it is. I look out for me and me alone," Dywel said with a proud huff. "I'm only interested in them if what they're wearing catches my eye."

"He says that, but when it gets down to it he'll be right there to help you out of a jam," Geraint said, smiling affectionately at his sibling.

"You'd like to think so, wouldn't you Erec?" Dywel defied, frowning furiously at his brother and sticking out his tongue at him.

"Tongue in the mouth," Geraint warned.

"It's a lot o' names t' remember, but I'm hopin' t' get it down eventually," Stephen said, smiling. The human memory was capable of a lot more than people gave it credit for. If anyone was asked to tally up the names of all the people they knew or were close to, family and friends and acquaintances and fellow members of a social group, there'd be a whole lot more names than just this number to recall. He was glad to have names to faces now, and to know a bit more about the people he was travelling with.

KAK

Some time passed before the IAK boys finally sat down to eat. "So, you seem t' get along better than the others did," Servause remarked after a moment.

" _Everyone_ gets along better than WA does," Alisander answered, rolling his eyes.

"These boys aren't far behind them, make no mistake," Bagdemagus said, glaring at Alexander before turning back to Stephen. "It just so happens they're being surprisingly well behaved at present."

"So, what's our plan, Morholt?" Bors the Elder questioned. Morholt was the one who'd brought this whole situation down on them all, so _he_ could take charge of the planning.

"Get Stephen back to the safety of Worcestershire Academy as soon as possible," Morholt answered. "Unless something stands in our way, we should be fine. My associate and his brother were banished from my palace, but that's no guarantee they won't try and go back. To return would be their deaths and I don't believe they would risk it, but better safe than sorry. Stephen can be hidden away safely in Worcestershire. Even if they learned of his location, it's unlikely they would dare encroach on it. Not with its fortifications and security and connections. It's too high-profile for them to chance. At least a dozen kings would come down on their heads with all their armies if they dared menace the children there, especially since so many royals have sons and daughers that attend."

"What was the name of this noble anyway?" Brandelis questioned.

"His name was Turquine," Servause solemnly answered. Brandelis stiffened up, almost seeming to start to enter into a strange sort of state before snapping himself out of it.

"He has a brother as bad as, if not worse than, him, named Caradoc," Bors the Elder added.

"That man gives me a bad name," Caradoc Breifbas dryly said. "Before I went on… hiatus from the Academy, the pages and young damsels had taken to crying out, 'Here comes Caradoc!' whenever family visits happened, or foreign dignitaries came. The way everyone scattered was humiliating. When they figured out I wasn't the Caradoc they feared, it lead to awkwardness. A _lot_ of awkwardness…"

"Now it's an inside joke to, whenever Carados' name is announced, say 'Caradoc not of the Dolorous Tower' or 'Caradoc, not the evil one'," Bors teased with a chuckle, playfully nudging the younger staff member. Carados shot him an annoyed look and rolled his eyes hopelessly.

"Sir Cardoc is a giant of a man, and he has joined in the pursuit of Stephen. Should we run across either him or Turquine, you boys get Servause far away. Galehaut… Actually no, not Galehaut. Petipace, you will go with them. Bagdemagus, Bors, Caradoc, Galehaut, and I will hold him off to the best of our ability," Morholt stated.

"I don't think…" Galihoden began, uneasy about his uncle remaining behind. A glare from said uncle made him bite his tongue and glance awkwardly away, which Galehaut immediately regretted.

"I'll be alright, Galihoden," the king murmured to his nephew by way of assurance.

"And if we should run into him when we're alone or in small groups?" Griflet asked.

"Run. Do not engage. Run," Morholt seriously said.

"With all due respect, sir, we won't leave you four to face these guys alone if they're as bad as you say," Tor replied.

"And we won't run if he's a threat to any of us," Accolon agreed, frowning.

"Yes you will," Morholt warned.

"I hear something!" Aglovale exclaimed, swiftly rising and drawing his sword.

"We're still within the boundaries of the competition," Petipace replied, rising in a calmer manner. The other boys rose as well, drawing their own blades. "It may be another boarding house. If so, try not to disgrace our houses too horribly, boys."

"Your faith in us is _so_ flattering," Dornar deadpanned.

"When you win, you win well. When you fail, you fail horribly," Bagdemagus replied to Dornar, frowning. All at once there were battle cries and one of the other boarding houses leapt out at IAK!

KAK

It was, surprisingly, the house who had the fewest members participating. Red Knight Accomodations with a grand total of seven. More surprising still? Gary and Xavier were both among the ranks! It was likely that they'd thought they were taking on a smaller boarding house, probably Green Knight Accomodations. They knew they were screwed the momet they saw it was IAK. IAK smirked like predators and prepared to leap in. "Go easy," Bagdemagus warned them all quickly. They frowned at him but obeyed, lunging into the battle. The teachers took on the teachers, the students took on each other in turns. "Eww, I'm touching a peasant," Dinadan, basically just playing with a huffing and puffing Gures aka Gary, said, grimacing in disgust.

"Get over yourself, Dinadan," Gary bit sharply, offended.

"Hey Din, why don't you try seducing him like you do every _other_ thing that has two legs and genitalia?" Agravaine bit, tagging him out to take on Gary in his stead. Gary all but yelped when he realized who was coming at him now.

"Don't patronize me, you little sleeze," Dinadan nipped snidely at Agravaine, stepping aside to let him take over.

"Oh my friend, you _definitely_ need a total makeover," Dywel remarked to the boy he was fighting, an Earl named Lambaile. "It wouldn't be too hard. You have the hair for it. And the nails and shape."

"You creepy bast…" Lambaile began.

"Lambaile, buddy!" Dinadan chimed in, waving.

"You stay out of this!" Lambaile shot, pointing his sword at Dinadan before blocking another attack by Dywel who he was basically just toying with. "Heard you've been using my name and rank as some fictional title around school to impress the girls. The 'Earl of Lambaile' if I'm not mistaken?"

"Oh right, I was going to talk to you about that," Dinadan replied, shrugging.

"Bite me!" Lambaile snapped.

"You think he won't?" Constantine asked, fighting alongside Galeschin and Gaheris to take on one of the rival boys. Which would have been a curbstomp battle, basically, if they weren't holding way, way back.

"Constantine!" Gaheris shot sharply.

"What?" Constantine defended.

"Another crack like that and I'm telling your father about your behavior! Where the hell did you even get that from?" Gaheris demanded. "Actually, you know what? I don't wanna know."

Servause examined the situation and started when he saw one of the rival boys hurrying towards Agravaine—who was about to lay Gary flat with a smile—getting ready to take him out. "Agravaine, look out!" Stephen exclaimed, leaping into action and blocking the other boy's sword as it was about to connect with Agravaine from behind! The would-be-savior gave an alarmed cry, stumbling quickly and fearfully away as Stephen swiftly drove him back, confused as to who he was.

Agravaine took Gures out and turned quickly in surprise, blinking blankly. Xavier Ironside had been about to take him out? _Wow_ that would have been humiliating. He'd have like, literally no remnant of a reputation left after that, his name besmirched for probably eternity. "Uh, thanks," he said to Servause, slightly surprised by the guy's rescue. It wasn't like he had much for friends in either IAK or Worcestershire. He was utterly despised and liked it that way. It made it so much easier to be a sneaky snitch and backstabber. No loyalties to hamper him. Of course, it also made it kind of lonely… Ugh, no, he didn't need friends. He shoved that thought away quickly enough. He had enough brothers and cousins to fill the void. Ugh, no, it wasn't a void, it was an inconvenience!

"Watch your back, Agravaine!" Accolon shouted at Agravaine, attacking a rival who had tried to get Agravaine from the side. Agravaine winced. Time to focus again. _He_ was supposed to be the one attacking from behind, not the one _getting_ attacked from behind.

"Servause, move!" Ermind suddenly called. Stephen looked back then dodged to the side as the boy leapt from a branch of a tree, landing on a rival who'd tried to go at Stephen, quickly taking him out.

"Nice," Stephen said, impressed. Ermind grinned.

"Move your tail, kiddo," Galihoden said, swooping in and pulling Ermind out of the way of an attack. He quickly dealt with said attacker.

"I've got your backs!" Galeschin said, rolling out of the way of an assault and quickly recovering.

"Who's got yours?" Brandelis demanded, leaping onto the scene and batting away an attacker that could have easily—albeit figuratively—taken off Galeschin's head.

"Th-this fight isn't even f-fair," Hoel said, a bit underwhelmed. Yeah they were taking turns, but it was still basically seven guys - ten counting teachers - against like twenty. Twenty-six if you again counted the teachers.

"Good. For once the 'Nerd Squad' is not looking like a pack of losers," Segwarides said, now fighting back-to-back with Hoel, Balan, and Constantine.

"I'm not a nerd! Am I?" Constantine said.

"No, but y-you're st-stuck near us right n-now," Hoel said, smirking. "W-we'll c-covering who-whoever n-needs it, geek or not."

"Because that's _so_ reassuring," Balan said wryly from near at hand, fending off an attacker.

"Whoa, bro, lighten up, man. You've been taking lessons from Gareth, haven't you?" Balin asked his sibling as the two fought back to back. "Gotta get the edge off, dude. Frankincence and myrrh?"

"Bro, we're like totally headin' out to face giants. Why you think hittin' the herbs is gonna be a good idea?" Balan replied.

"Sue me," Balin replied with a smirk.

Sagremore, Dornar, Gaheris, Griflet, Accolon, and Tor were in a circle, watching each other carefully. "Wow. For seven guys they're ridiculously persistent," Dornar said. Which probably shouldn't be overly surprising. They'd picked the seven best out of RKA. Well, Xavier and Gary were kind of dubious choices, they'd probably just been fillers, but that was beside the point!

"Don't worry. We've got this," Tor assured.

"Easy for _you_ to say," Griflet said, weathering a blow to his arm and wincing. That arm was unusable now. Damn, it had been his good one too.

"Watch it!" Sagremore shot, lunging and taking out an opponent before said opponent could get to Griflet.

"Watch yourself in turn," Gaheris said, striking down another who'd gone for Sagremore. They just kept getting up and coming at them dammit! They technically shouldn't be allowed to, but he guessed the teachers were letting it fly because there were so many against so few.

Bors the Elder, Petipace, and Carados danced in battle against the three teachers from RKA, as Galehaut, Bagdemagus, and Morholt watched from the sidelines. It was quite a beautiful dance of swords, really. "Ulfius, you're making this is too easy," Bors taunted his opponent. "This whole match is laughable." Ulfius didn't grace him with a reply.

"This was doomed to failure from the start," Caradoc backed, smirking victoriously at Brastias, who was his opponent. "We're more skilled than most, and you all know it."

"Skill can't always carry you," Brastias replied.

"He's right," Petipace said, jaw set as he faced off against the third rival teacher, Permones, who was certainly no easy match and seemed to be testing him more than actually genuinely fighting him. "There must be strategy involved also, and many other things. Strength, speed, weather conditions, opponent weaknesses, etc."

"We're doing well with all of that so far," Bors said.

Sure enough, soon the rival boarding house was beaten and limping away, defeated and humiliated. "Excellent work, boys," Bagdemagus praised. "Now, let's get a move on before something worse comes along."


	7. Turncoat

Turncoat

(A/N: And end Act 1. Will start posting Act 2 ideally tomorrow.)

The forest was quiet. Eerily so. It didn't sit well with the teachers, or with the more serious students. The rest were taking it all pretty casually. "I don't like this," Daniel remarked to Sagremore.

"What? It's a forest. It's quiet. Not like anything's off about it," Sagremore replied, tossing a ball back and forth with Geraint.

"It's _too_ quiet, Sagremore," Daniel replied.

"Pfft, you're just being paranoid," Sagremore replied.

Daniel sighed. Of course. No one listened to him. "Hold on, I've got to readjust my shoes," he said.

"Mmm hmm," Sagremore replied, not really hearing him. Daniel stooped down and began lacing up. When he looked up, though… He gasped, shooting to his feet. Where were they? Darn, he'd fallen behind. Great. Sagremore probably hadn't heard him. Or if he'd heard, he hadn't listened to the words he'd said. Ugh, typical. Just, flipping fantastic. Daniel began looking around. If he hurried, he might still be able to catch up with them.

Of course fortune was never that kind, and moments later Daniel was frozen. There was a forking trail! He almost cursed himself and his luck, but he refrained. He couldn't get alarmed right now. He had to stay calm. Which way now? Maybe right? He scanned the ground, searching for signs they'd even passed by in this direction. He saw nothing. Darn it, he'd been daydreaming again and lost their trail. Perhaps he should double back to where he'd bent to readjust his shoes. They'd probably look for him there. He wasn't about to go down a random unknown trail alone, especially when neither one had signs of having been used for a while.

He started back to where he'd been, glad he'd remembered the way. He came to the clearing and sighed, sitting down on a rock. He had to admit, he felt a little hurt, but then that was becoming a more and more common thing these days, it seemed. Would anyone even miss him if he died or disappeared, he wondered? He bowed his head slightly lower. A little voice was saying 'no' another was saying 'yes'. He hated those conflicting voices. There was a crack. Daniel looked sharply over and rose. "About time you guys…" he began, heading towards the bush.

Just then, out stepped a massive man towering high above him! Daniel's mouth dropped in shock. He shouldn't stare, it wasn't polite, but he couldn't help it. This guy was a _giant_! Well, giant for a man who wasn't of the Giant race. The man looked down at him from behind his wicked helmet, eyes burning. This didn't bode well. Daniel stepped back a bit, inwardly reassuring himself that his sword was right there. He wouldn't reach for it to double check, that might provoke this man, but it was there. "Excuse me, sir, but did you happen to see a group of young men somewhere nearby?" Daniel asked. He didn't care if it was a rival school or not, as long as it was _somebody_. These woods were dangerous if you were out alone in them. Wait… didn't Servause and Morholt say that Turquine's brother Caradoc was a giant…? And maybe Turquine himself. Oh sh…

"Stupid boy, do you know who I am?" the giant rumbled, drawing a massive cudgel that had to be bigger than Daniel's whole body! Sh… "Answer me!" the giant roared.

Daniel stepped back further, terror mounting in his eyes. "Sir, I don't wish to partake in any sort of confrontation. I'm simply looking to rejoin with my hunting party!" he insisted, hands up in a pacifying gesture.

"Pathetic," the giant grumbled. Immediately he swung at Daniel! Daniel gasped and dove out of the way. Dammit! He grabbed his sword and spun, cutting at the giant and marking him. The Giant winced in pain, but to him it was little more than a scratch. Daniel hadn't sliced him deep enough. The Giant swung the club again. Daniel tried to dodge, but it caught him a glancing blow! He cried out in pain and rolled. He groaned, slowly rising. He gasped, barely managing to roll in time to avoid being crushed by the cudgel.

"Help!" Daniel cried out, grabbing his sword again. He dodged a swing and lunged, stabbing the man's thigh. "Help me, someone!"

KAK

"Dinadan, Aglovale, Ermind, Hoel, Constantine, Galeschin, Dywel," Carados finished. "Everyone is here."

"Good. I could have sworn we lost someone," Bors the Elder said, looking ponderous. Dinadan looked distracted, searching around.

"What's up?" Accolon asked, noticing Dinadan's unease.

"Something's not right…" Dinadan said, trying to puzzle it out. Hold on a second. Sharply he looked over towards Sagremore. "Where's my brother?" he demanded.

Sagremore paused in tossing his ball, raising an eyebrow. "Daniel? He's right here," Sagremore said, gesturing behind him. Wait. Sharply he turned and gasped, shooting to his feet. "No he's not!" he exclaimed.

"Dammit!" Morholt said, aggravated. "Where is he?"

"I-I don't know!" Sagremore replied. "He said something about doing something. I just assumed he was muttering to himself. _You_ know how quietly he speaks! It's practically a murmur every time he opens his mouth."

"We have to go back and find him!" Galeschin worriedly exclaimed.

"Sagremore, take us back to where you remember him being," Gaheris said. Sagremore was already taking off in a run, racing through the woods with a now obviously worried Dinadan on his heels. Quickly the rest of them raced to catch up.

"Oh man, if anything happens to Daniel I'll never forgive myself," Sagremore said tightly. Daniel was his best friend! Heck, pretty well only friend, come to think of it.

"Forget forgiving _yourself_! _I'll_ never forgive you!" Dinadan furiously said. "That's my baby brother you left behind!" Sagremore cringed. A vengeful Dinadan was _not_ something you wanted breathing down your neck. He had connections. Many of them none too savory. Of course he didn't generally bother with them if he could deal with matters himself, and usually he could deal with matters himself. Like, you had no clue how well. So yeah.

KAK

Daniel screamed in pain as the cudgel struck him. He slammed against a tree and painfully gasped. The Giant pushed the handle of the weapon up against Daniel's neck and pushed him up the tree letting the bark and sticks scrape the boy on the way up. Soon the youth was dangling in the air by the neck, gasping for air and struggling to reach his sword before it was too late. The giant took it and threw it away from him. "Suffer," the man growled.

"Wh-who are you?" Daniel hoarsely breathed, choking as the Giant slowly began pushing against his windpipe.

"I am Sir Caradoc, and I am searching. You are not the one I am searching for. You must die," Caradoc answered.

"Wait, don't, please!" Daniel begged, gasping for air.

"What can you offer me? Do you know where the one I'm searching for is? If not, I have no use for you," Caradoc replied.

Servause, he meant Servause, Daniel realized! Should he betray Stephen, he would live. If he stayed silent, he died… No. He wouldn't stoop to Agravaine's level and throw someone else to the dogs just so he could live another day. He could never live with himself for that. If he died, he died, but he wouldn't betray the slave. "Nothing… I can offer you nothing…" he answered finally, mind made up.

"Then your life is forfeit," Caradoc stated. He threw Daniel down to the ground and raised the cudgel high above his head. Daniel, weakened and badly injured, lay there gasping. He couldn't move anymore. Perhaps it was for the best. No one would miss him anyway… Caradoc swung the hammer down.

"Daniel!" a panicked voice screamed. Dinadan! Sir Caradoc suddenly screamed in pain. Daniel's eyes shot open and he caught his breath upon seeing the arrow protruding from the large man's back. The others. They'd come back! Tor was there, holding a bow. He'd obviously been the one to let the arrow fly. Dinadan and Sagremore were charging towards the giant top speed. The two threw their combined weight into the man, knocking him off balance. Dinadan immediately ran to Daniel, falling next to him. "Little brother, look at me!" he begged, eyes filled with fear.

Daniel glanced weakly at his sibling, struggling for each breath. "It-it hurts to-to breathe," he whispered. He shuddered and slipped into unconsciousness in his brother's arms.

Immediately rage awoke in Dinadan. Body shaking in anger, he slowly stood and looked sharply towards Caradoc. "You bastard!" he screamed at the man, drawing his blade and leaping on the giant, plunging the weapon down fully intent on impaling the man. Caradoc, though, got his hammer up in time and kicked Dinadan off before glaring hatefully at the group of knights. Upon doing so, however, he froze. His eyes fell directly on Servause…

"You," Caradoc said, pointing at Stephen. Darkly he chuckled. "I'll be back for you," he growled. Morholt swiftly stepped in front of the boy. Caradoc summed up the number of his opponents and began to back away. It wasn't worth it. Not when he was alone. He retreated swiftly into the woods to better summarize these new roadblocks.

Dinadan went to try and pursue, but Carados held him back. "Your brother. Worry about your brother," he seriously said to Dinadan.

Dinadan paused, looking back at Daniel. Fear came to his eyes and he hurried to his sibling's side, picking him up in his arms and carrying him back to the others fearfully. "Can anyone help him?" Dinadan fearfully asked.

"Carados can," Segwarides answered, fearfully staring at Daniel.

"W-we need t-to find one of the other schools and m-meet up wi-with them! More protection f-for Daniel there," Hoel said in concern.

"And we have no idea where any of them are," Geraint grimly said. "We should have stuck with Worcestershire."

"Lay him down gently so I can get to work on him," Caradoc ordered.

Dinadan nodded helplessly and gently laid his sibling down. "Oh if Brunor saw this…" Dinadan muttered. He trailed off. If Brunor saw this, _no_ one would have stopped him and his brother from going after the one who had assaulted Daniel…

KAK

Sagremore sat on a rock watching the unconscious Daniel, fists balled in front of his mouth. Guilt was tearing through him. This was his fault. He should have paid more attention. He should have done _something_. He'd just kept walking and playing competitive catch with Erec. He heard the teachers talking.

"How could I have missed him twice?" Bors was asking of the other staff—minus Carados, who was tending to Daniel—guilt stricken as well.

"It wasn't your fault. Daniel is so quiet, and he's always present. You took for granted he was there. It's not unusual, Bors," Petipace assured.

"It's the silent ones we should be watching the closest," Bors said.

"You're right. And none of us were watching him," Bagdemagus stated. "It was as much our faults as yours."

Sagremore winced, closing his eyes tightly and bowing his head low. He glanced over at the unconscious Daniel. "I'm so sorry, Dan…" he muttered softly to his friend.

"Stop beating yourself up about it. It was bound to happen," Dinadan dryly remarked, approaching with some water and handing it to Sagremore. Sagremore eyed the waterskin then took it, drinking. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if Dinadan had poisoned it. He almost hoped he _had_. He'd never seen Dinadan so distracted by anything before. Not for a good long while at least. The older boy looked grim, to say the least, and highly unimpressed, and that didn't fit with Dinadan. The guy probably wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

"You need rest," Sagremore remarked.

"Forget it. Not while my brother's like this," Dinadan answered.

"You can't do anything for him, Dinadan," Sagremore said.

"Bite me!" Dinadan shot sharply.

"He's right. There's nothing you can do," Brandelis said from his sleeping position. Dinadan shifted uncomfortably and sighed. He didn't like being unable to do anything.

" _Dammit_ , Daniel!" Dinadan angrily shot at his unconscious brother, throwing a stick angrily into the flames. He buried his face in his hands, shaking his head and willing back a burning sensation in his eyes. "Dammit," he repeated, voice breaking slightly.

"Hey, Daniel's a hard nut to crack. He'll pull through," Percival gently said, placing a hand on Dinadan's shoulder.

Dinadan looked up at the other quietly. "Yeah, I guess…" he finally replied. He rose, going to Daniel and covering him over with a blanket. Gently he drew a hand through his brother's hair. "Don't you dare die," he murmured to him. "Daniel, I swear to god if you do… Brother, if you do, there is nothing in this world Brunor and I wouldn't do to avenge you or get you back…"

KAK

As the new day dawned, Daniel groaned, shifting. His eyes flickered open and he frowned. Something was lying next to him, snuggled close. He looked over and started. Dinadan, fast asleep at his side. He must have stayed up for as long as he possibly could. Daniel was touched. He nudged his brother. Dinadan groaned. "Bro, last time we shared a bed we were like kids. And it was with Brunor," Daniel said, smirking affectionately at his sibling.

Dinadan frowned and opened his eyes. He gasped, sitting up. He seized his brother in a tight hug. "Daniel! Thank god you're alive," he exclaimed.

"Dinadan, pain," Daniel whimpered, grimacing in pain as bruised—if not broken—bones were squeezed.

Dinadan winced and let him go. "Right, injured. Sorry," he said.

"It's okay," Daniel replied.

"Daniel!" Sagremore exclaimed in delight, racing to Daniel and hugging him.

"Pain!" Daniel cried out.

"Sorry!" Sagremore replied, immediately releasing him.

"Hey bros, for once I wasn't the unlucky one!" Balin exclaimed in delight.

"For once," Balan teased, smirking at his brother. Honestly, words couldn't _express_ his relief that it had been Daniel instead of Balin facing off against the giant. It if had been his twin, Balin might not have survived. He inwardly winced at that thought. Perish forbid it ever happen. Protectively he placed a hand on his sibling's shoulder. Balin gave him an understanding look, returning the gesture. The two were close. Very much so. They loved no one more than each other.

Daniel was soon sitting with ribs bound tightly up. He grimaced in pain. "There's not much more we can do for you," Morholt said to his student.

"It's alright, sir," Daniel quietly replied.

"No. It isn't. These injuries must be dealt with properly," Morholt seriously replied.

"Worcestershire, doy," Dornar said. Worcestershire Accomodations were always crazy prepared with medical supplies. After all, they couldn't go ten minutes without being at each other's throats, so they needed all the first aid they could get. Carados would need those supplies now.

"If we can find them," Morholt agreed. "Let's hurry."

"This is all me fault. They were searching for me and Daniel was nearly killed because o' it. I'm so sorry," Servause miserably said, head bowed.

"It's not your fault, Stephen," Accolon said, frowning.

"It feels like it is," Stephen sharply replied, rising and kicking the ground, starting to walk off.

Galehaut reached out, catching his arm. "No. You're not going anywhere. We made a commitment to get you out of this, and we'll get you out of this. Don't you dare try and walk away. This was _our_ choice, Servause, not yours. If we hadn't wanted to help, we wouldn't have," he assured.

Stephen nodded, eyes vulnerable. He looked at Morholt. "I'm sorry, master," he said.

"Do _not_ call me master," Morholt said.

"Then what?" Stephen asked.

"Sir, friend, father, whichever suits you," he answered. Servause started. Had Morhaus just listed father? Had he _realized_ he had? Servause simply nodded, grinning gratefully and widely. It wasn't long before he looked nervous again, though. He… he was frightened… He glanced over at Agravaine, who was glaring at him coldly. He didn't like the look in Agravaine's eyes. It was a thoughtful one that implied nothing good…

Agravaine caught his gaze and frowned. As soon as the focus of the group was off of Stephen, he went towards him. Stephen watched warily but held his ground. "I will do what it takes to ensure safety for myself and my siblings, my friends and my teachers," he said, reaching him and pacing around him.

Servause's eyes filled with guilt. "I never meant for this t' happen," he replied.

"I don't care," Agravaine answered, waving a hand dismissively. Stephen said nothing. Part of him honestly _hoped_ Agravaine acted…

KAK

The IAK students continued through the forest. Griflet was watching Agravaine curiously, as was Dornar. "Something's up with your boyfriend," the former said to the latter.

"Oh god, don't even joke," Dornar replied, grimacing. "Love him as a friend, wouldn't want him as a lover."

Griflet shrugged. "I'm just saying. We should really keep an eye on Agravaine. Something just isn't sitting right here," he said.

"I know," Dornar replied, approaching Agravaine without Griflet.

Griflet watched after Dornar. Honestly, he would rather not deal with Agravaine if it could be helped. This was Dornar's thing to deal with. Dornar was among the few who semi-knew how to talk to and handle Agravaine. He might have been able to as well, but again, he'd rather not deal with the guy. It wasn't that he hated Agravaine so much as it was Agravaine got on his nerves. And Griflet didn't really trust him. Well, he did but didn't. It was complicated. See, Agravaine was loyal to only those who earned his loyalty. Thing was virtually no one earned his loyalty. It wasn't an easy thing to win; but when he was loyal to someone, he was _loyal_ to them. It wasn't always so straightforward, however. On occasion, even those who had simply done something nice for him earned a display or two of loyalty. Really the only ones guaranteed to have Agravaine's loyalty, right now, were his brothers and cousins. Speaking of his brothers… Griflet looked towards Gaheris. "Gaheris!" he called out.

Gaheris paused, turning, and spotted Agravaine walking away with Dornar following. His lips pursed grimly. "Say no more," he said. "Dornar should be able to handle it."

"You sure?" Griflet asked.

"No, but I'm hoping," Gaheris answered.

"Something bad is going to happen, isn't it?" Galeschin asked his cousin, looking uneasily around in nervousness. Everything about this felt dangerous and wrong.

"I don't know, kiddo, but I hope not," Gaheris answered. If Dornar couldn't collar Agravaine, he'd take his _own_ stab at it.

KAK

"Wouldn't want me as a lover, huh?" Agravaine teased, smirking coolly at Dornar as the other came up alongside him.

"Eavesdropper," Dornar replied, smiling. _That_ would explain the cold look Agravaine was giving him. He'd probably heard Griflet and him discussing how they needed to watch him. "What are you plotting, Agravaine?" Dornar flat out asked. No use hiding it, he guessed.

"I'm not plotting anything," Agravaine replied.

"Oh please. You're _always_ plotting something," Dornar answered, rolling his eyes.

Agravaine opened his mouth to retort but trailed off. The guy had a point. "Look, it's nothing to concern yourself over," he replied.

"I'm sure it is. It _always_ is," Dornar replied. "Your plan for Stephen. Now."

"I have no plan," Agravaine insisted. At least not a solid one.

"Look, you're getting in way over your head this time, Agravaine. Just let it go and stick with us this time," Dornar firmly said.

"That's exactly what I _intend_ to do," Agravaine said.

"Servause is one of us now," Dornar warned.

"Servause is a little lost boy who dropped in from nowhere not even two days ago," Agravaine hissed.

"He saved your whole reputation when he saved you from being taken out by Xavier Ironside of all people," Dornar said.

"Big deal!" Agravaine shot defensively, blushing on being reminded of the close call.

"Agravaine, this stops here. You're going to get yourself killed," Dornar firmly said.

"Whatever man. Don't worry about me. Worry about yourself," Agravaine said, snorting in derision. Dornar sighed, hopelessly shaking his head.

KAK

It was night once more, and each one of them was asleep. Except for one. A figure slipped through the shadows, heading towards the woods. Said figure looked back only once, seeming to hesitate. Soon enough, though, he slipped into the woods. Needless to say, the identity of said figure should be fairly obvious. At least to people on the outside looking in. Agravaine drew a hood over his head and slipped silently through the woods. Peerless in matters of stealth and spying, he'd been a busy bee all a bustle over this Caradoc and Turquine thing. He knew things that probably should have been shared with the teachers long ago… Like the fact the giant was following them, and this time there was someone else with him…

Agravaine moved quietly and climbed up a tree. He looked around and saw the glow of a fire. He began moving through the forest canopy towards said glow. He stopped in a branch and looked down. There he saw the giant camping with another. They were murmuring something. Agravaine listened with baited breath. The words 'sneak attack' and 'massacre' were the only ones he needed to hear to get the gist of what they were saying to each other. He scowled deeply. Not on _his_ watch. He supposed he could sneak up and stab them in the back, but he'd seen how little damage Daniel's sword had dealt the giant. Of course, Daniel's blade hadn't been sharpened recently—the guy kept losing himself in a daydream or started philosophical thinking and then forgot half the time—but still. No, Agravaine had to tackle this in a more… treacherous sort of way… Yes, he was a ratfink and he wouldn't hesitate to admit it.

He climbed down out of the tree and approached the two quietly. "Well met, campers!" he called out. They shot up, drawing their weapons and swinging. He nimbly leapt back. "Easy!" he exclaimed. "I'm not here to make trouble!"

"Little worm, we have no use for you," the giant, Caradoc, said.

"Calm yourself, brother. This one sounds slippery," the other said, placing a hand on his sibling's shoulder.

"What could he possibly offer that would be worth our time? If he is a betrayer, he is just as likely to betray _us_ ," Caradoc answered.

"Perhaps, but still. What do you want, boy?" the other asked.

"I want you and your brother to leave us alone," Agravaine replied.

The two men darkly began the chuckle. "Why should we do so?" the other questioned.

"Because I can hand you Stephen on a silver platter," Agravaine answered with a devilish grin.

The two brothers perked up immediately at this and exchanged glances before turning back to him. "Do tell," the other said.

KAK

Agravaine returned to camp smirking to himself. He lay back down in his spot and closed his eyes. Soon it would be time to wake up. There was no point in trying to sleep at this hour. Sure enough… "Rise and shine, boys!" Bors the Elder loudly said. They all groaned in protest but nonetheless obeyed. Not like they had much choice. Agravaine went right back to blending in with the others.

"I trust you all rested well," Bagdemagus said to the students.

"Yes sir," they replied.

"Then let's get on our way quickly. Before Caradoc and Turquine have a chance to catch up," Caradoc said, looking back at the other teachers who all looked grave. The group gathered up all their things and began heading towards the coast once more.

Servause lingered near the back of the group with Brandelis, Balin, Balan, Agravaine, Geraint, Ermind, King Galehaut, and Dywel, who was playing with Geraint's hair while Geraint was giving him a piggy back ride. Given Dywel was his brother, Geraint didn't really care that his sibling was playing with his hair. "Me next, Geraint!" Ermind insisted.

"Go away," Dywel shot at Ermind. Ermind stuck out his tongue.

"You're taking turns. Deal with it Dywel," Geraint said.

Stephen looked a bit incredulous. "Hey, sometimes we're better, sometimes we're worse. Depends on the day and the moods," Balin explained, nudging him playfully with a smile. Servause smiled back. "We're still figuring out the moods today, but hey, plenty of time. Morning's only just begun."

"Ugh, you optimistic little…" Agravaine began.

"Agravaine," Galehaut warned.

"Agravaine's a sleaze," Dywel absently said, still playing with Geraint's hair.

"Easy. No need t' be lashin' out at Agravaine. Y' know better than I what he's like, after all. Y' should know how t' deal with it by now," Servause said. Agravaine raised an eyebrow at Stephen before frowning and huffing. He caught the other's arm, pulling him back and letting the others walk onward. Stephen looked uncertainly at him.

"What are you doing?" Agravaine demanded.

"What d' y' mean?" Servause asked, frowning curiously.

"Why are you standing up for me? If you think for a second it's going to change my opinion…" Agravaine began.

"Hey, that's just the sort o' guy I am, okay? I help people, I stand up for the underdogs. Sue me!" Servause shot. "I'm sorry y' feel like y' don't need anyone but yourself! It's not stoppin' me, whether y' like it or not."

"Look you bas… moron. You have no loyalty to me, I have no loyalty to you. Deal with it," Agravaine sneered.

"Whatever Agravaine," Stephen replied, trying to pull away.

"Hey, don't _walk_ away from me!" Agravaine shot, pulling him back.

"Let go!" Stephen shot, jerking away and looking ready to fight should Agravaine decide to try and get into it.

"You know, all of this could have been avoided if you'd stayed in your place, slave!" Agravaine shot.

"D' y' know what it's like bein' a slave?! I was born inta it. Me mother was a prisoner o' war and by extension so was I! Prisoners o' War get even less freedom than slaves that are bought or gifted. No right t' speak, no right t' own land, no right t' do anythin'! Yer property. Y' do what your master says when he says it. Y' aren't a person, yer an object. Slaves are beaten and whipped, slaves are used for sex, slaves are expendable, slaves are nothing. Sacrificed, sold and bought naked like merchandise, humiliated, and worse. T' sharpen blades I would watch masters plunge red hot swords inta a slave's body in the belief that blood would help in the sharpening process. And yeah, I could have dealt with all that crap, all the humiliation and pointlessness, the having no voice in anything. I really could have because it was me whole life, and on top o' that Morholt wasn't a bad slave master! But then came Turquine… You don't even know how degrading it was t' have t' obey him. Tasks as menial as wiping his backside? And he… He had other plans for me… I am _not_ goin' back t' that life, Agravaine! Not for you, not for them, not for _anyone_!" Servause shot.

"So they _are_ just being used by you," Agravaine sneered.

"I didn't say that!" Servause shot.

"You…" Agravaine began. Just then, though, something snatched him from behind! He cried out, or tried, but his mouth was quickly covered…

KAK

Servause gasped, paling. "Turquine!" he exclaimed in horror. "Let 'im go!" He drew a bow and arrow and attempted to shoot it. Before he could, though, someone caught it, pulling it away from him. He leapt to the side to observe his offender. His lips parted in horror. "Caradoc," he numbly said.

"Take the boy," Caradoc said, gesturing to Agravaine. Agravaine squirmed in Turquine's grasp.

"Leave 'im alone!" Servause exclaimed.

"Take this message back to your master. Until you are handed over to us, until he gives us full control over you and vows not to come after you, his students disappear one by one," Turquine stated.

Stephen was pale. Turquine began to drag Agravaine away. "Wait!" he exclaimed. They paused, turning. "I…" he began. He trailed off and swallowed, bowing his head and drawing a hand through his hair. "Let Agravaine go back t' them… He can tell them I took off on me own because, I don't know. He'll figure somethin' out. Just… Just let 'im go… I'll come with y'…"

Agravaine was, admittedly, a little surprised. This… was supposed to be more complicated than this. Servause wasn't supposed to just go. That was… too selfless… Especially after what the guy had said about never going back no matter what… Agravaine felt himself being thrown down. He looked sharply up and rose, blinking blankly. He was still trying to puzzle this out. He was silent. Caradoc approached and seized Servause painfully. Stephen yelped as his arms were wrenched harshly behind his back. He bit his tongue, willing the pain to stop. Agravaine just stared.

Swiftly Stephen was bound tight. He grimaced. "Agravaine, get out o' here before they change their minds!" he exclaimed. "Run!"

"Agravaine has nothing to fear. He never did. After all, this was his plan from the start," Caradoc said. Stephen started, eyes widening. No… How could he have walked right into that?!

"Well, part of his plan. He expected it to be a little more complicated. Apparently, he misjudged you," Turquine said.

Stephen looked sharply at Agravaine, a brief flash of pain and hurt in his eyes. Could he honestly say he was surprised, though? Servause bowed his head low, cursing his carelessness… But the others would be safe now, if nothing else… He hoped… "Well played, Agravaine," he remarked. "They were right… Yer good…" Agravaine shifted uncomfortably.

"You betrayed a friend, boy. You think you can go back to them?" Caradoc asked Agravaine.

"He wasn't my friend," Agravaine answered, shrugging. "Have fun with him." With tha the turned his back on Caradoc and Turquine and started to walk away. Servause cried out as Turquine struck him in the stomach, doubling over with a cough. Agravaine paused, looking back. He sighed deeply, looking a bit upset, then continued on without turning back.

KAK

"Agravaine?!" Gaheris called out, worriedly searching for his brother. They'd noticed Agravaine and Stephen's absence not long ago and had stopped. He, Dornar, Balin, Constantine, and Galeschin were out searching now.

"Stephen?!" Galeschin called worriedly.

"Agravaine!" Constantine concernedly shouted.

"Servause!" Balin called. "Where are you, dude?! Come on, you can't just disappear!" Oh man, if something had happened to the guy they'd never forgive themselves. They'd promised to protect him! He shouldn't have to suffer anymore…

"Little bro, where are you?!" Gaheris called out to Agravaine.

"I'm here, Gaheris," Agravaine said just then, alternately climbing and leaping down some rocks and ending up next to them.

"Oh thank god," Gaheris said, hugging him tightly.

"Where's Servause?" Dornar asked.

Agravaine was quiet. "I don't know," he finally replied. The others were quiet, exchanging worried looks.

Soon enough they were searching for Stephen. Agravaine, though, was distracted. Dornar noticed and raised an eyebrow. Agravaine shrugged and smiled in an attempt to reassure the other. Dornar wasn't fooled, but he let it go. Gaheris, on the other hand, looked ready to intervene, so it was probably best if he beat his brother to the punch. Agravaine reached out, catching Gaheris's arm. "Gaheris, can we… can we talk…?" he asked.

"Uh, sure," Gaheris replied, raising an eyebrow. It was rare Agravaine wanted to talk with _anyone_ let alone his siblings.

Agravaine nodded and stopped, letting the others go ahead. Gaheris waited too. When they were out of sight, he turned to his brother. "What's wrong?" he concernedly questioned.

"I… Something bad… Look, this… I-I've done something wicked…" Agravaine began.

Gaheris was quiet. Oh no… "Servause," he realized, tense. His suspicions had been on point, then… He sometimes hated that he knew his brother so well. "Oh god, Agravaine... What did you do…?"

Agravaine was quiet. "Nothing. It'll be fine. You'll, I mean we'll, find him. It was just… It'll all be okay. We're safe now, all of us. He will be too," Agravaine replied.

Gaheris put a firm hand on Agravaine's shoulder. "Little brother, I don't know what you're thinking, I don't know what you did, but don't do anything rash. Please. What are you planning? I'm begging you. Tell me. We can work this out," he said.

"I'll… get Stephen back," Agravaine said.

"You did something… Oh god, you made a deal with them, with Turquine and Caradoc. You turned him into them," Gaheris whispered, pale. Agravaine was silent. "Dammit… Okay, don't go back to them. We can work this out. We can save Stephen. This is way too dangerous, Agravaine. You're not doing it alone."

Agravaine nodded. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't-don't worry about it," Gaheris said. "We'll work this out somehow."

"Yeah, we will," Agravaine replied. "Catch up to Dornar, Constantine, Galeschin, and Balin. I'll head back to the others."

"Right. Remember, nothing rash," Gaheris said.

"Yeah… Goodbye bro… I love you. All of you. Mordred, Gareth, Soredamer, Gawain, Loholt… Just… Bye…" Agravaine said.

"When all else fails you, your siblings will always be here," Gaheris said, lost in thought as he tried to strategize. Had he focused a little more on his brother's words and the implications, he wouldn't have gone at all. Currently he was trying to problem solve, and so he didn't think to reason on his brother's motives, or on why Agravaine was being so accommodating and sentimental. In retrospect he probably should have… Gaheris went after the others. Agravaine began walking back to camp, or so it appeared. But as he went, he looked back, then suddenly veered off in another direction altogether…


	8. I Follow My King

_Act 2: Tower in the Woods_

(A/N: These are two characters that will have bigger roles in stories to come, but they're not really very active in this one.)

 **Meleagant/Meliagrance:** Meleagant is the quintessential jerk with a heart of jerk. He is the son of King Bagdemagus, who spoiled him terribly and tolerated tantrums, and as a result Meleagant tends to have a very higher-than-thou attitude towards others. His father even pulled strings to get him the position of king of the student body, so that hubris is hanging over his head too. When he sees something he wants, he gets it one way or another, which leads to a highly questionable moral character. He has a very strained relationship with his father due to Bagdemagus' quick marriage after his mother's death, so quick it seemed like it was instant. This enraged and deeply hurt Meleagant, which led to a break between father and son that Meleagant hasn't been able to get over. The second marriage brought in a step-sister also, who Bagdemagus began to appear to favor over even his own son, so suffice it to say the prince isn't pleased with his dad at all. He has a crush on Guinevere and is openly hostile towards both Lancelot and Arthur whenever the topic of her comes up. He makes it no secret he wants her even after *REDACTED* _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin._ When all's said and done, though, Meleagant does care deeply for the others in his own way, even going out of his way to try and save them or help them. His dearest friend is Ozanna le Cure Hardy, who keeps him on a tight leash reining in Meleagant when he gets a little too vicious for comfort.

 **Parents:** Bagdemagus

 **Siblings:** ?

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Guinevere, Gwinevere

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

* * *

 **Calogrenant/Calogrevance/Colgrevance ap Clydno:** Incredibly loyal and protective of those he cares about to Knight Templar level, it's hard for the others to keep a leash on Calogrenant when one of them is in trouble. He will let absolutely _nothing_ stand in his way of protecting his friends and relatives. Of course, in the process he usually ends up putting himself in more danger, but it's kind of a two-edged sword because as often as he puts himself in danger, he just as often succeeds in saving those he loves. Because he's so protective of the others, the others get obsessively protective over him right back which in turn drives them to do better, so it all kind of balances out in the end. At least as far as _he's_ concerned. Calogrevance has a bit of an attention deficit disorder, another foil of his, but he is polite, considerate, rational, and good natured; basically, the acid tongued and rude Kay's polar opposite.

 **Parents:** Unknown

 **Siblings:** Unknown

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Yvain

* * *

(A/N: These are charaters that will eventually get screen time, but 'Merlin' says it all about how important they are at the moment.)

 **Ozanna, Hebes, Gahalantine, Menaduke:** _"_ _No, no, no, not important enough to share just yet! Come now, no more confusion for now. Two is quite enough." – Merlin (shoving bios off the side of the page)_

I Follow My King

Turquine and Caradoc… To this day those names continue to send shivers up and down my spine. Shivers of both revulsion and fear. They were our eternal enemies. For years upon years they were our eternal enemies. Nothing delighted them more than kidnapping and imprisoning Knights of the Round Table. At one point they had a good chunk of my friends in custody. I still have nightmares thinking about it, about what they must have suffered before finally they were set free…

And my… and Loholt… He died in their custody, you know, or in the custody of Brian of the Isles… He got sick… They wouldn't help him and no one else could… He was just a boy, only fifteen! Oh god, Loholt, Loholt… You'd think I remembered where he died... I should, he meant the world to me, but I can't think straight anymore. Blood loss I guess.

This is where it all started… This is how they came to be our mortal enemies for so long, so sit back and 'enjoy' it…

Past

Servause, bound tightly far from the fire, shivered. After trying to fight Turquine and Caradoc off, and failing, he'd been severely flogged. He grimaced in pain. He couldn't compete with them. Not in his current state. He couldn't escape… He almost whimpered, but what would whimpering do? Well, it would certainly help him to feel better, so he whimpered… "Please… please, gods, help me…" he pled weakly.

Almost immediately he felt something cutting through the ropes binding him. His eye flew open with a gasp. "Might not be the hand of a god, might be, who's to say? But either way you're getting out," a voice said.

Servause's body tenseded. He knew that voice. "Agravaine," he gasped with a sob.

"Keep it down," Agravaine hissed, clamping a hand firmly over Stephen's mouth. He cut him loose then pulled him up.

"I can't believe it. Y' came back," Stephen said.

"Yeah, whatever. Let's just get out of here. Now," he said.

"The minute they see we're gone, they'll be after us again," Stephen warned.

"Two against all of us? I'm not too concerned," Agravaine replied.

"Two against two I'm afraid, boys," a voice said. Sharply the duo looked up. Turquine and Caradoc stood there glaring at them dangerously!

The two blinked. "I told you to keep it down," Agravaine deadpanned, scowling and drawing his sword along with Servause, who stared wide-eyed and pale.

Caradoc and Turquine lunged. Servause and Agravaine leapt out of the way and rose swiftly. Agravaine slashed at Turquine, who cried out in pain and swung at him. Agravaine leapt back. Stephen's blade clashed against Turquine's and he pushed the man away. Caradoc swung with his cudgel, catching them both and sending the two boys flying to the side. They cried out in pain, sliding across the ground, then sat up. "Run!" Agravaine ordered. The two scrambled up and began fleeing into the cover of the forest. Agravaine cried out as suddenly he was grabbed from behind!

Servause slid to a stop, turning. "Agravaine!" he exclaimed, preparing to lunge.

"No! Keep running! Don't stop! Get help, Stephen, hurry! You're in no condition to fight!" Agravaine insisted, wriggling in Caradoc's grasp.

"Stupid little double spy!" Turquine angrily said, striking Agravaine a strong blow to the head. Agravaine cried out.

"No!" Servause exclaimed. They turned attention to him. Stephen cursed under his breath.

"Stephen, run, please!" Agravaine begged. Servause swallowed dryly. He had to get help, he knew Agravaine was right about that. And right that he was in no condition to fight them on his own. Right now, running and getting the others was the only thing that he could do for Agravaine. So immediately he turned and raced away from Caradoc and Turquine, who were occupied with the madly fighting prince. Leaving him behind was a mistake, Servause repeated to himself over and over, but it was one mistake or another in this situation. There was no win. This mistake simply had more of a chance of getting Agravaine back alive.

"I'm sorry…" Stephen said aloud to the wind. He knew Agravaine couldn't hear him, but it made him feel better about fleeing. Maybe he could have gotten Agravaine out, but it was more likely they would have both died or been taken, and then no one would know. Sadistic choices… He hated sadistic choices…

KAK

"Where are Agravaine and Stephen?!" Petipace demanded of the students.

"A-Agravaine said that-that he would come right back here!" Gaheris worriedly answered.

"But he _didn't_! And where is Servause?" Galehaut demanded.

"We-we don't know," Balin tightly said.

"This is perfect," Galihoden said with a groan. "Just what we need."

"Let's go back out there and search again. They _couldn't_ have just disappeared!" Alexander insisted.

"Yeah! If we split up into groups, then…" Accolon began.

"Guys, guys, Turquine and Caradoc have Agravaine!" Stephen's voice suddenly blurted as the boy stumbled out of the woods, pale and dishevelled.

"What? How? Why?" Dornar demanded, hurrying to Servause and holding the winded and flogged, to Dornar's horror, boy up.

"He…" Servause began. He didn't get much father, though. Suddenly an arrow flew through the air, imbedding itself in Bors the Elder's leg! The man cried out in pain, crumpling to the ground. Immediately Carados, Bagdemagus, Galehaut, Petipace, and Morholt rallied around him.

"Draw your weapons!" Petipace commanded the students. Swiftly they reacted, drawing their swords. Bors staggered up, grimacing, and drew his own.

From the bushes strode two figures. "Caradoc, Turquine," Morholt realized immediately, body tensing.

"It's two against all of us. We can take them. For Agravaine!" Brandelis stated.

"Totally with him," Galihoden piped up, though he looked frankly terrified.

Just then more figures came from the woods, surrounding the students. "Or not," Dywel remarked, pale as he backed up against Ermind and Geraint.

"Th-they b-brought c-company," Hoel fearfully said.

"Kill them all," Caradoc simply ordered his and Turquine's men. Immediately the small army lunged.

"Attack! Show no mercy!" Morholt commanded.

The two sides clashed. It was obvious almost immediately that, though skilled, the smaller group of students and teachers wouldn't win this battle. Only a choice few had even a ghost of a chance of getting away. Blood was being spilled, namely theirs, and their screams echoed through the forest. It would be a massacre if something wasn't done, and they feared not even the small children would be spared it. "Ermind, Dywel, stay behind me!" Geraint ordered.

"Constantine, Galeschin, stick close!" Gaheris shot.

Servause cried out as Turquine struck at him. Morholt lunged, attacking Turquine and battling him away. "We can't keep this up!" Bagdemagus called.

"We know," Carados gravely answered.

"Give it your all! This is a battle to death!" Galehaut shouted.

"Oh god, Lionel, Bors, I'm so sorry. Evaine, my love, forgive me," Bors the Elder pled. With his death, his children would be left fatherless, his wife a widow and alone. At least, he thought, he would join his brother in Avalon…

"Dad, dad!" Dornar cried out as if his father might hear him though he knew he couldn't.

"Father! Lamorak!" Percival screamed for their father and brother.

"We're going to die," Tor numbly said.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," Daniel fearfully said.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," Dinadan desperately said to his little brother, taking his shoulders firmly and looking into his eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't get you back to Brunor alive. He loved you so much…"

"He loves me just as much as he loves you?" Daniel shouted at his brother. Dinadan stiffened in surprise "Do you honestly think he picks favorites?! He doesn't, Din!" Dinadan swallowed and nodded. "Now stand by me, brother," Daniel softly muttered. "This isn't over yet. Don't say sorry yet."

Dinadan looked ahead and gasped, pulling himself and Daniel out of the way of the cudgel being swung at their heads. "Always," he replied.

"Father, Palamedes, Safir, Florine, I am sorry…" Segwarides numbly said aloud to his absent brothers, father, and sister.

Balan swallowed, giving a regretful look to his twin. "I'll stay by your side to the end," he said to Balin flat out.

"It goes two ways, bro. Two ways," Balin vowed.

"I'm sorry…" Stephen said to them all. And in particular Morhaus.

"A thousand times over I would have done it," Morholt answered as they were herded into a tight circle with no room, anymore, to do anything but fight in place and try and cover one another for as long as they could.

"And a thousand times more you'll be able to!" a voice suddenly shouted out, unbridled rage in its tone. All heads turned. From the treeline raced King Pellinore, and with him all his company as well as the other dorm houses! Their backup had arrived, their numbers together adding up to more than Caradoc and Turquine were prepared for, and suddenly this battle was as good as done, and it was no longer in the favor of the giant brothers.

"Dad, Lamorak!" Tor cried out.

"Let the bodies hit the floor!" Lamorak shouted furiously.

"Dad, hold on!" Bors the Younger cried out, near tears on seeing his father injured and about to be killed.

"Rideth onward, riders of Worcestershire!" Palamedes said, enraged on seeing his brother in danger.

"All of you, to battle! Show them we're not afraid. Charge!" Arthur ordered, eyes blazing and fixed on his nephews and Hoel. The others, for once, didn't argue. In a flurry of horses' hooves—hey, the other houses had at least managed to keep _their_ mounts where WA and IAK hadn't—and clanging armor, the veritable army charged down into battle and began carving into the enemy soldiers. The trapped boys cheered their rescuers and immediately felt rejuvenated. The battle was renewed, and this time every part worked in sync on all fronts whether they were enemy or ally…

Morholt swung at Turquine and the two battled back and forth. Turquine suddenly tripped up Morholt and slashed. Morholt fell with a cry, clutching his side and grimacing. He looked sharply up. Turquine's blade was coming down. "Morhaus, no!" Servause cried out.

Just then something raced in front of Morholt, catching Turquine's blade. "Tristan," Morholt said in shock.

Tristan kicked Turquine back and looked at the man. "Never. Again," he deadpanned.

"Tristan, get down!" Morholt shot, grabbing the boy and pulling him down on top of himself just as Caradoc's cudgel sailed over them. Had Tristan not been pulled down, his head would have been either knocked clean off or crushed. He gaped in horror then looked at Morholt, eyes wide. Morholt nodded, patting his shoulder, and staggered up. Tristan watched after the man in disbelief. He… wasn't sure what to think about that… Or how to react…

In minutes the enemy was driven away, and Caradoc and Turquine fled, enraged at the sudden arrival of the cavalry. The dorm houses cheered loudly in victory, hugging each other and high-fiving without second thoughts. Arthur included, who, for the first time ever, was beginning to feel like he had a place…

KAK

When most of the adrenaline had left and they had time to breathe, excited and relieved and grateful chatter immediately started up. Bagdemagus marched towards one of the boys of Green Knight Accomoations furiously and with a measure of concern. A lot of chatter died a bit as they students and teachers watched warily. "What were you thinking?!" Bagdemagus freaked at the boy he'd targeted.

"Who's that?" Stephen whispered to Balin.

Balin grimaced. "It's Meleagant, Bagdemagus' son. He's a member of the student body, actually the head of it, and a serious jerk most of the time so do yourself a favor, bro, and stay out of his way," he whispered back.

"I was thinking I didn't want to witness the laughter of a bunch of guys I've known most of my life, albeit disliked just as long?" Meleagant half-sarcastically shot back. "Although seeing _you_ fall wouldn't have broken my heart any. I get one hell of an inheritance once _you're_ gone." Bagdemagus looked briefly stung before anger came again.

"You could have been killed!" he shouted.

"Like you'd shed a tear!" Meleagant yelled back.

"Meleagant!" Bagdemagus furiously began. Meleagant scoffed and shoved rouhly passed his father, marching away fuming. Servause stared in disbelief.

"They're… not exactly a warm parent-child dynamic," Aglovale dryly said to Servause. "Not by Bagdemagus' choice." That awkward scene over, the houses went back to relieved chatter.

"Calogrenant!" Yvain exclaimed, going to one of the other boys in GKA. That boy looked about Kay or Dinadan's age.

The boy, Calogrenant, grinned and went towards Yvain, catching him in his arms and hugging him tightly, picking him up. "Well-met, cousin. I've missed you."

"Cousin? Am I missing something here?" Arthur demanded.

"No blood-relation to you, your majesty," Calogrenant said, smirking at Arthur as he deduced the young kings concern. "I'm Yvain's cousin through Uriens (off-note: could be on his mother's side, still working that out) this time."

"He has a bit of an attention deficit disorder. Easily distracted, this one," Sagremore explained to Servause, rolling his eyes. Goes by Calogrenant and Calogrevance, but seems to favor Calogrenant."

Calogrevance nodded at Stephen. "Depends on my mood," he said.

"He's Kay's polar opposite, charming and patient and sweet-tongued," Bedivere remarked, nudging Kay with a smirk. "The guy's a good foil for him."

"Watch it," Kay warned, frowning. He hadn't seen a lot of Calogrenant, but from what he _had_ seen of him, he found the guy annoying. It was more of a love-hate thing, though. Sometimes he liked him, sometimes Calogrenant was lucky to get away alive.

"Tristan!" a voice called out. A boy, probably around Lionel's age, ran towards them. Another of the boys from GKA House.

Tristan looked curiously over and nodded in recognition. "Hebes," he greeted.

"Who's this?" Dinadan asked Tristan, frowning curiously. He hadn't seen this kid around which meant he was probably relatively new to the school, a year or two maybe.

"I'm Hebes! I'm Tristan's buddy, right Tristan?" Hebes replied.

"Right kiddo," Tristan replied, ruffling his hair affectionately in one of the rare moments he actually let a smirk, if nothing else, cross his face.

Hebes beamed. "I'm sorry I have to be against you, Tristan! I really wanted to be allied with Worcestershire House because then you could teach me really cool stuff and…" he began.

"Hey, no getting chummy with the enemy," Meleagant warned.

"Back off, Meleagant," Tristan warned.

"Easy. Meleagant likes to pretend the only person he cares about is himself, but when it comes down to it he'd lay his life on the line for any one of us," another GKA boy, Ozanna le Cure Hardy, said, brushing the king of the student body's behavior off.

"You'd like to think so, wouldn't you, Ozanna?" Meleagant grumbled, kicking a rock and glaring spitefully towards his father who was trying to ignore the piercing glare.

"You almost threw your life down to save _me_ ," Constantine remarked to Meleagant, smirking knowingly.

"It was instinct!" Meleagant insisted. "You were about to topple off a tower and I just acted."

"You care," Constantine sang.

"Oh, shut up," Meleagant said, putting a hand up snootily.

"As long as we're introducing ourselves to the new guy, I'm Gahalantine, a cousin of Lancelot's," another boy said to the Servause. "I, or rather we—'we' being me and all my many cousins—are pretty well the adventure crew. We regularly go on adventures with Sir Villiers the Valiant, one of the teachers at Worcestershire Academy, because _he's_ our cousin too and has made it his mission to rid the waters of pirates. It's a lot of sea travel, but eh, you get used to it."

"Really?" Hector asked, eyes lighting up. "Why haven't I been allowed to go with you guys?! Or even Bohort or Lionel?"

"Because you're all too young?" another young man lingering nearby bluntly replied, arms folded and an unimpressed frown on his lips. "Face it baby cuz, you, Lionel, and Bohort have the short end of the stick. Wait a couple years, then maybe we'll start dragging you along."

"That's no fair!" Hector protested.

"If it keeps you alive, it's fair," the young man replied. Hector frowned, pouting. The young man looked to Servause. "I'm Menaduke of Mentoche. Yet another cousin. There's a crapton of us." Servause looked about to reply, but Linoel cut in then.

"Do you guys have any pirate stories to tell us?" Lionel asked his cousins.

"That would be so cool!" Hector said, instantly perking up again.

"No, it wouldn't," Lancelot seriously stated, frowning at his little brother. Hector frowned and harrumphed, rolling his eyes.

"The lot of us are pretty close," Gahalantine said to Servause. "And like Menaduke kindly pointed out, there are a lot scattered around. Busy family, and tight-knit. More than is going to be good for any of us in this Game of Houses. Well, actually Villiers and Lancelot are having some… issues, but for the most part we're all pretty close."

"So wait, Villiers is your cousin?" Dagonet said to Lancelot in surprise.

"He prefers to keep it on the down low. He's ashamed of me," Lancelot bit. "His favorite saying? 'Grow up and we'll talk about my acknowledging you as blood'."

"Probably because all he sees when he looks at you is a bully looking to make himself into more than he's worth," Menaduke bit at Lancelot.

"Go fu…" Lancelot began.

"Okay, enough!" Galehaut cut in sharply. "There are more important things to deal with right now." He looked to the newcomers. "Sit down. We have a story to tell and you need to listen very, very closely to it." The newcomers exchanged looks.

KAK

The other dorm houses listened in horror to IAK's story and the tale Stephen told. Needless to say, Gaheris, Gareth, Gawain, Loholt, and Mordred were utterly terrified and sick with worry, visibly pale and shaken. "Leave it to Agravaine. If not Mordred, Agravaine," Arthur bitterly said, shaking his head.

"I say we leave him to his fate, that worthless traitor," Kay angrily said.

"And if it were Arthur?!" Gaheris furiously shot, enraged.

"It wasn't Arthur, though!" Kay snapped.

"What if it was?!" Loholt demanded.

Kay glared coldly at Loholt, then looked uncertainly at Arthur. He said nothing in response. "The great Kay, muted. Never thought I'd see the day," Bedivere remarked.

"Can it, Bedivere!" Kay snapped. Bedivere smirked.

"I'm afraid… I'm afraid it might not matter… It might be too late for Agravaine," Carados spoke up quietly, tending to the wounds sustained in the fight.

"What do you mean?" Gawain asked, uncertainty and fear filling his eyes.

Carados was silent, bowing his head. "In retaliation for their defeat, they may have executed him… He may have died for his betrayal of them before they even came after us in the woods… There will be nothing to recover, boys."

"No! He's our brother, he's our _brother_!" Mordred screamed, tears in his eyes.

"And my cousin!" Ywain shrieked.

"Mine too!" Constantine wailed.

"Your brother is dead, got it? _Dead_!" Brunor angrily shot at them.

"Brunor, enough," Safir said. "But… he's right… We can't risk our lives going after a body!"

"And if it were Segwarides?" Lucan demanded.

"Easy, cuz," Griflet said, placing a hand on Lucan's shoulder.

"Don't make this worse, bro," Bedivere agreed.

"What if?!" Lucan pressed, not backing down. He turned on his family. "Would you be saying the same thing if it was _me_?!"

Bedivere winced and exchanged looks with Griflet. "Stop!" Galeschin desperately insisted, visibly distressed by the fight and looking like he was reliving some sort of trauma.

"There must be some way to find a happy medium!" Pelleas was quick to add, wholly agreeing with the little boy.

"Look, maybe Agravaine can still be saved, but it can't be by us. We're untrained squires, not knights!" Gures, Gary, spoke up.`

"He's not wrong. If we return to Worcestershire or Far Far Away, Arthur can send out a search party of _trained_ knights to find Agravaine and bring him back dead or alive. We can't do it ourselves. We don't even have sharp weapons! This whole thing was just supposed to be a test," Dornar rationalized. The others were silenced at this.

There was a bit more debating before finally Meliot said, "We've talked all we need to. We do this Dornar's way. IAK and WA head back to the castle at Far Far Away, GKA and RKA will head back to the school to recruit even _more_ help. Bors the Elder, Morholt, Pellinore, Bagdemagus, Caradoc, Ector, Petipace, Galehaut, and I will head up the search, but you boys cannot be involved. Get on your horses. You're going to Arthur's Kingdom."

Mordred, Yvain, Ywain, Constantine, Galeschin, and Loholt burst into tears or screams of protest and denial, throwing a mass fit. Gaheris swallowed over a painful lump in his throat and knelt, scooping up Mordred and Loholt to cuddle them close, though they both kept struggling and screaming that they couldn't leave Agravaine behind. Gareth lifted Ywain up and Galeschin while Gawain took Yvain and Constantine into his arms. Glumly the boys began to obey the orders… All except for one…

KAK

"Wait, what? No! No way! No! We're _not_ leaving one of our own behind with Caradoc and _Turquine_!" Arthur said, mouth agape in shock and appal. He was disgusted at the _idea_ of it.

"Get on a horse, Artie, there's nothing we can do," Lancelot said as he and the others continued to leave.

"Wait, seriously? Is no one standing by me this time? Come on, guys! IAK, at _least_ you! For pete's sake, he's one of _yours_!" Arthur called.

"Just get on de dumb horse, Arthur," Bleoberis grumbled, striking the back of Arthur's head as he passed.

Arthur blinked blankly in shock. This wasn't happening. He scowled. "Fine, go then, but I'm not coming! I may despise Agravaine, but dammit he's my nephew! Whether anyone else stays or not, I'm going!" Arthur declared, putting his foot down.

"Son, don't be foolish," Ector said.

"I agree with Arthur," Alisander said suddenly, coming up alongside the young king and stopping firmly. Where no one else stopped, _he_ did.

Arthur started, looking over at the Byzantine Emperor with eyes wide in shock. "Alexander?" he asked. Alisander was honestly one of the _last_ ones he would have expected to stand by him. "Why?"

"My question exactly. It's unsafe, Alisander. Arthur doesn't know what he's doing. Don't be an idiot and come on," Safir said.

Alexander shrugged and turned to Arthur to answer his question, eyes filled with a respect Arthur had never, ever seen in them before. Ever. "I follow my King," he simply replied, bowing to him. Well, fellow king in his case, but the sentiment still stood.

Arthur stared with mouth agape in shock. It wasn't a full bow, more a head bow, but it was _something_. "Wow… Uh, thanks… I-I don't really know what to say," Arthur finaly found the words to say. "This isn't just because Soredamer would be crushed if something happened to her brother?"

"It's a big part, but not the only part. I was genuine when I said I would follow you," Alexander replied. "Let's go, Artie." He looked back at the others. "If luck and the gods are with us, maybe we'll see you again soon. If not?" He shrugged, shaking his head. He looked at Gawain. "If I don't make it, tell her I'm sorry," he said, voice softer and a bit sad. "I would have given anything to be able to see… to see our child born. To watch it grow up… I pray we can at least save your brother, if not ourselves…" With that he turned and started in the direction Caradoc and Turquine had gone.

Arthur grimaced, looking suddenly exhausted and defeated. Wow that had gotten real fast… He shook his head at the rest of them and turned, catching quickly up with Alexander. "I'm sorry," he said to him. Alisander just shook his head. "How far along?" Arthur asked quietly.

"She's showing," Alexander answered with a weak smile. "Maybe in the sixth or seventh month, thereabouts… I could feel it moving…"

Arthur was quiet. "You don't have to come," he finally said.

"No one else _will_ ," Alisander answered, shrugging. "You go there, you're doomed."

"You don't have to be doomed _with_ me," Arthur said. "Only one person has to die, Alexander."

"And it can't be you," Alexander replied, looking sincerely at him. "Brittania can't take another loss like they did with Uther. It won't be able to stand if it does, and its enemies will rip it apart, if it doesn't rip itself apart first. At least if _I_ die, Soredamer can take the throne of my empire."

"Alex…" Arthur began.

"Let's just do this, okay Artie?" Alisander replied. Arthur winced, really not liking the direction this had gone.

KAK

The rest of them stared in shocked disbelief as Alisander and Arthur headed away. There was utter silence. Dagonet began to shift uncomfortably.

 _I follow my King_.

Not long ago he himself had said that very same thing… He grimaced then frowned, starting after Alisander and Arthur. "Arthur, wait!" he called out. Arthur looked back and started on seeing his court jester approaching. He and Alisander paused to wait. Dagonet chuckled, smirking as he caught up. "I follow my King," he said. Arthur caught on and grinned at him.

The others watched in disbelief. "Screw it. I'm not letting Arthur out there alone," Kay said finally, approaching.

"Nor I," Ector said, following his son. "Your Majesty, my son, you have our backing."

"Oh, what the heck?" Dinadan said, shrugging and going to Arthur.

"Wait up," Daniel said.

"Oh hell no. No without me," Brunor said, frowning at his brothers and pursuing them.

"I follow my King," Lamorak sang, grinning. He liked the sound of that. He was the next one to follow.

"No way are you going out there without us, Lamorak!" Aglovale sharply shot after his brother, quickly joining him with Percival, Tor, and Dornar.

"Damned if my sons go without me," Pellinore said.

"I'm going too," Stephen said. Agravaine had done this for _his_ sake. He wasn't letting them do this without him.

Mordred was silent. Finally he squirmed out of his brother's arms and moved towards Arthur, surprising everyone. "Mordred?" Arthur said in shock as Mordred came up next to him.

"If you screw this up, 'uncle', our blood is on _your_ hands," Mordred said. Arthur winced.

After that, the floodgates were wide open. The others, every single member from every single dorm house, one by one approached until all of them were at Arthur's side.

 _Except for one…_

Arthur grinned widely. He'd never felt so, so… Oh what was the word? His eyes lit up in realization. He'd never felt so confidant and reassured before, so much like people had his back. He'd always been alone, the loser, left to fend for himself… And now suddenly they were all there… It was so different. So amazing… And in that moment, Arthur realized nothing would be the same again… He looked over towards the last one still to come, and his grin fell, breath catching nervously in his throat. Oh no…

"Lancelot?" Gawain asked. The mood sobered immediately.

Lancelot remained apart from them, eyes blazing dangerously and borderline murderously at Arthur. "No. No way! I'm not following that _idiot_ into something this big! He's going to get us all killed, so forget it! I'm getting help that might actually be worth something. Follow the blind if you must, but I want _no_ part of it."

"Lancelot…" Hector began.

"You're with me, brother, or you're with him. Make your choice!" Lancelot sharply shot.

Hector started, looking nervous. He looked from Lancelot to Arthur and back. Finally he swallowed, took a breath, and replied, "I love you more than anything. You know I'm always on your side… But I can't follow you this time… I choose Arthur… I'm sorry you won't come with me, but Agravaine doesn't have the time left to him that it will take to get help… Good luck, Lance. I'll see you back at school. Hopefully." Lancelot looked outraged, mouth dropped in shock and disbelief, but he didn't move. Hector apologetically bowed his head and followed the others who were already heading off. Soon enough they had all disappeared into the woods.

"Dammit!" Lancelot yelled, kicking a tree. Screw Arthur! He growled and mounted a horse that had been left for him, riding in the opposite direction…


	9. Captive

Captive

Agravaine was thrust roughly to the ground in a cell with a grunt of pain. He'd been blindfolded and gagged, so he honestly had no idea where he was right now. He felt the gag being removed and the ropes being cut. The blindfold was taken off and he shook his head, scowling up at the men who had captured him. Turquine and Caradoc. Behind them stood six knights of theirs in a neat row with wicked, unretricting light armor that looked like it had some barbarian influence. "Your betrayal of us has cost you. Your friends were slaughtered, every last one, along with all those who came to help them. Dead," Turquine said.

"Yeah? Show me their heads," Agravaine sneered. He wouldn't believe it until he had proof! But… but his heart had dropped into the pit of his stomach at the words…

"They wept like cowards. The children squealed so prettily," Caradoc stated.

"Show. Me. Their. _Heads_!" Agravaine shot, feeling rage but also fear bubbling up. "Give me proof they're dead, or this little mind game you're playing isn't going to work!" For his defiance he was struck a blow that knocked him to the ground. Caradoc grabbed him, picking him up, and threw him across the cell and against the wall. He crashed into it with a bang, crying out in pain and falling to the ground. His body protested the rough treatment, and he was seeing stars, his head having connected with the sharp stone painfully. It was now bleeding. He felt the blood coming warm and fast. He whimpered a bit, trying to get to hands and knees, but was dragged up and shoved against the stone once more. Manacles were closed over his wrists, locking him in place. He began to try and struggle against them, pointless as it was.

Caradoc pushed a knee against his back, pinnng him, then took hold of his tunic, ripping it apart and exposing his back. He pulled the tattered remains off Agravaine, tossing them to the side. Agravaine's squirming intensified. Right up until he heard a whip cracking in the air… He froze solid, the sound echoing in his ears. Oh shi… He screamed in pain as an agonizing jolt tore through his whole body, the whip Turquine branished connecting solidly and powerfully, rending flesh. They didn't drag it out slowly, this was a thrashing after all, and struck steadily and methodically at a pace just slow enough he wouldn't go mercifully numb anytime soon.

He writhed and screamed under the whip. They flogged him until he could no longer stand on his own, only the manacles holding him up. They continued even after, until he began to waver on the brink of consciousness. Finally, they stopped, leaving him gasping and panting for breath, bleeding badly and in agony. Every movement hurt. He whimpered slightly and bit his tongue to try and keep from crying. It didn't work, and tears began to slip from his eyes.

"You're a prisoner now, little boy. You have no room for defiance," Turquine darkly said. Agravaine coughed painfully, struggling to breathe. He almost said 'bite me' before he thought the better of it. The manacles were release and he dropped to the ground like a sack, laying there still and shuddering. He gave a pained cry as he was kicked in the stomach, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes tight. The cell door was shut behind him. Weakly Agravaine opened his eyes, looking after them. "We will be back," Turquine stated.

"To pass judgement?" Agravaine bit.

"Judgement has already been passed. You will die here. Evenually. When we've had our fun with you," Turquine answered.

"Damn you," Agravaine hissed.

They chuckled darkly at his words. Turquine turned to a guardsman. "Find Selices and send him to me. I have a task for him." The knight bowed to Turquine. Four followed their masters out in procession while two remained behind to guard Agravaine's cell. Agravaine shuddered, closing his eyes. As soon as he could think and move and breathe again, he needed to start looking for a way out.

KAK

"That coward! I can't believe Lancelot abandoned us like that," Kay said.

"His rivalry with Arthur has always clouded his judgement," Caradoc Briefbas remarked.

"That's no excuse for that jerk's behavior!" Kay said. "He should be put to death for his insolence."

Hector's jaw twitched, and he spun on Kay. "Back off! Lancelot is ten times the man you'll ever be, Kay! Or any of us for that matter! You don't know anything about him or what he's willing to do for the people he cares about!"

"Take off when the going gets tough, that's what," a boy from Green Knight Accomodations, Ozanna le Cure Hardy, said with a scoff.

"That's not true!" Bohort snapped. "He'll do anything and everything for them!"

"Right! He did for Hector," Lionel insisted.

"My cuz ain't no coward," Bleoberis defended just as coldly as his other cousins. "Yous don't know nothin' 'bout Lancelot."

"Then inform us. What redeeming quality does that jerk have?" Kay said with a sharp laugh.

"Lancelot is a good man. Rough around the edges? Yes. Very. But in his heart, he's a good and honorable man. If one more person says otherwise or keeps speaking ill of him, you'll face _me_ ," Gawain spoke up, tone hard. "He makes stupid decisions in the heat of the moment, but he always comes back. He has to. It's his heart's inclination. He would never be able to live with himself if he didn't this time and something bad happened."

"Never should have let you get to know me so well," a voice said bitterly from behind. They all turned.

"Lancelot!" Calogrevance, aka Calogrenant, exclaimed in shock. "You came back!"

"You heard Gawain. It was in my heart to return and all that sappy crap," Lancelot muttered.

"But-but why?" Arthur asked.

"You think I was going to miss _this_ party?" Lancelot questioned with a dry smirk. It fell shortly after, though. "I came because Carados is right. My rivalry with you clouds my judgement. But this isn't about you and me. This is about Agravaine, and… and I need to work on putting grudges behind me anyway… I have a bad habit of keeping and nursing them. Going to get me killed one day."

"Been _there_ ," Arthur dryly said, grimacing.

"Now that we're all together again, let's keep going," Bagdemagus said. "There isn't any more time to waste. Every second that passes is another second Agravaine doesn't have. Considering there's still an Agravaine to save…"

KAK

A guardsman strode down the dark dungeon corridor, tall and finely-built with lengthy hair cascading down his back. He held no conventional weapon. Instead he wore, on his fingers, makeshift claws, long and deadly and wicked. Each fellow guard that saw him moved out of the way with gasps or whispers, granting him room to pass. His movements were grace, his step sure, and his ears… They were pointed… Bands were strapped around his arms, located on the biceps, forearms, and wrists. They were made of ebony mixed with some sort of red material. Jagged spikes protruded from them. A collar was about his neck, as jagged and deadly looking as the bands on his arms. His torso, bare, was covered in scars that formed an intricate pattern over the whole of his body. A sash was about his waist, black and long, holding up black greaves that looked like they were made from the scales of some beast, possibly a dragon. He was an altogether terrifying sight. The black war paint around his eyes that traced his blood vessels didn't help him look any less intimidating. Whispers of 'Selices' rippled through the men, all of which swiftly moved out of the way, glaring dakly at this thing among them. He had been told to pay a visit to the new prisoner, so there he went.

Agravaine woke to the sound of something dragging leisurely and menacingly across the bars of his cell. He frowned and looked up warily and tiredly. He caught his breath, eyes widening in shock, on seeing the figure standing there. He gave a cry, scrambling away from the door and staring in horror. An elf. It was an elf! With claws! And apparently a thing for racy armor. Like wow. That was some really, really… unsettling and unnecessarily sexualized stuff going on. Did he seriously fight in that getup? The figure, the elf, stared at him, tilting its head from side to side as it summed him up, eyes red as blood and canine teeth filed to abnormal points as well as a few others. Agravaine sat slowly up, lips parting in disbelief as light caught the figure. Holy crap… this elf was just a _kid_ …

"Oh my gods…" Agravaine said. He'd thought this whole scenario was messed up as it was, but realizing just how young this thing must be—dammit, it couldn't be more than the elven equivalent of _eighteen_ , if that—just made it like a thousand times worse! It continued to stare at him, apparently not accustomed to seeing a kid so young in this nightmarish dungeon. The elf's makeshift claws tapped and played against the bars before reaching down. It took the lock between two of those claws, felt it up for a moment, then applied a little pressure, cracking it open. He took the lock and casually dropped it to the side. Agravaine sat still, rooted to the spot with eyes wide and lips parted in fear, heart speeding up nervously. Nothing he was seeing implied this visit would be in any way good. The elf opened the door, walking inside in no rush. "Wh-who are you?" Agravaine managed to make himself say. "Wh-why are you here?!" No answer. It just kept coming. Agravaine shook his head, scrambling to his feet and pressing himself against the wall. "No," he pled, voice breaking. "Please… Please! Don't!" He shook his head as he said those words, pressing against the stone as much as he possibly could. He didn't know what to expect, what this elf was playing at, he just knew he wanted no part of it. It stopped near him, claws reaching out and creeping across Agravaine's throat, pressing against the walls. The boy probably would have sobbed if he hadn't been so scared. All he could do was stare pleadingly up at the tall elf. "Please," he pled once more in a whisper, tears burning his eyes.

The elf continued staring at him quietly, reading him. Finally, it withdrew its hand and stepped a little way away. Agravaine let out a shaky breath of relief, but he knew better than to assume this was going to be the end of it. He swallowed nervously. "How old are you?" the elf asked after a moment. His voice only confirmed, to Agravaine, how young this thing really was…

"I-I'm almost fifteen," Agravaine replied numbly. It was still, staring at him. There was a twitch in its jaw, though, which told Agravaine it associated something with that age. "Who are you?" Agravaine asked again in a whisper.

It stared, eyes boring into him. "My name is Selices," he finally replied. "Of the Dolorous Tower."

"You-you're an elf," Agravaine said.

Selices' jaw twitched again and Agravaine saw a barely perceptible swallow as it looked away from him a moment, closing its, his, eyes. Soon he looked back at him. "I… was not expecting a child."

"You're one to talk!" Agravaine said before he could bite his tongue. He inwardly cursed himself for the slip. A dark anger had crossed the elf's eyes before seeming to be neutralized once more.

"I haven't been a child for a very long time," he answered. "This… complicates things."

"What were you sent down to do to me?!" Agravaine demanded. "Because I'm sorry, but that getup you're wearing? It's really, really making me feel like you came down here to play at more types of torture than just the conventional physical sort." Selices stared at him as if puzzled as to what he meant. Soon, though, he caught on. The fact the guy didn't seem surprised at the insinuation really, _really_ didn't make Agravaine feel comfortable. "Oh my god, _did_ you?!" he exclaimed in horror.

Selices was quiet. "They sent me to visit you. What 'visit' means depends on the one they've sent me to."

"What does that even _mean_?!" Agravaine demanded. Selices looked visibly uncomfortable now, the menacing façade starting to fade as he was put more and more on the spot. He stepped back a little more. "Wait! Wait, just-just can we start over?" Selices stayed quiet. "Okay… What the hell man?!" Selices looked unimpressed with the failed attempt to 'start over'. "Sorry, sorry, just-just I'm kind of really, _really_ not okay right now, okay?" Agravaine said, feeling more and more desperate and more and more like he was edging towards panic. "Why… what did you expect, when you came down to 'visit' me? Can we start there? What did you expect?"

Selices was quiet. "I expected a man," he finally answered. "A man with… ideals. Imaginings… Fantasies…" Agravaine blinked, trying to process the words, then looked utterly appalled at the insinuation. Selices looked away, then back. "The next thing I expected was a genuine prisoner. One they wanted punished severely. Fatally…"

"An executioner," Agravaine said, eyes wide.

"Hmm… Generally the men I'm sent to execute thank me for killing them… Caradoc and Turquine are far from kind wardens… And after that, I expected a genuine prisoner they wanted tortured."

"You're their torturer too?" Agravaine asked a bit meekly.

"Not a good one," he answered.

"What does _that_ mean?" Agravaine asked.

"It means I don't… relish in inflicting pain," Selices said. "So instead they die or faint very, very quickly."

"So they sent you to kill me, then," Agravaine said.

"They want that honor for themselves," he replied.

"So torture! They wanted you to torture me!" Agravaine said.

Selices stared at him steadiliy. Agravaine began to shift uncomfortably, looking a bit fearful. "They sent me to... _sorely_ harm you," Selices finally replied. He looked him over again. "I didn't expect a child…"

"I don't understand what that means! I don't!" Agravaine said. Why did he keep saying that?

Selices met his eyes again. Finally he turned, walking out of the cell and shutting the door behind him, retrieving the lock and putting it back on. Then he sat on a perch, cross legged, and just stared like a creepy mother… never mind. Agravaine would go out on a limb and guess that the idea of torturing or… sorely hurting a kid only a few years younger than himself was kind of unsettling for this guy. Good. It meant he had a little more time before pain. The elf was probably psyching himself up to go through with it, so he had kind of a limited window to think his way out of this. He hated that he was drawing a blank this time around, because he could really, really use an idea about now.

"How did you come to be here?" Selices suddenly asked.

Agravaine looked over at him, a bit startled by the question. He blinked at the elf and winced, looking away. "I… made a mistake… I needed to fix it…"

"What mistake?" Selices asked.

Wasn't _this_ guy just full of questions, now? Of course, he probably didn't get much of a chance to speak to anyone on this level very often. Or at all. When was the last time he'd spoken to someone on a more casual note, Agravaine wondered? "There… was a boy that Caradoc and Turquine wanted. An escaped slave. They hunted him down. Me and my… schoolmates had run into this boy and taken him under our wing. So they started stalking us. And getting closer… And I heard them mutter to one another about a sneak attack and a massacre one night, and I… I felt like if we didn't get rid of the escaped slave, it would cost us all our lives… So I went to them… I made a deal. I told them I'd hand him over on a silver platter to them and… and I did…" he said.

Silence. "Why are you here and he isn't?" Selices finally asked.

Agravaine was quiet, looking down. "Because I went back for him. I saved him… But while we were trying to get away, they caught me… He tried to come back, but I told him not to because then they'd just catch us both, and he needed to get help so maybe there'd be a chance. For me, for him, for everyone… He didn't want to go, but he knew it was the only way, so he ran to find the others… And they took _me_ instead…"

"Why did you go back for him?" Selices asked. Agravaine looked up at the elf and was silent. Why did you go back…? He… he didn't know how to answer that question… Instead he looked down. Selices stared, waiting. No answer. "Please… I need to know…" Selices finally said.

Agravaine looked back at him. Need? Why need? On second thought, he probably didn't want to know. "Because I felt regret. And guilt. And shame… Because he was a better person than me… Because he tried to save me when he thought I was in danger from the two giants, even though I'd only antagonized him… He didn't deserve to suffer whatever they had planned for him…"

"Are you a good person?" Selices asked.

"I'm the last guy who's going to claim that," Agravaine replied, grimacing.

"Then why did he try to save you? Especially when you'd only tormented him?" Selices asked.

"Because _he_ was a good person," Agravaine said quietly, arms folded across his chest now, officially thoroughly shamed.

Selices was quiet. "I don't understand," he finally said, head hung slightly. He looked conflicted. He looked sad… He looked confused and lost…

"I don't either. But I guess sometimes you don't have to. It just comes, maybe? I don't know," Agravaine said.

Selices nodded. After a while he looked up. "You went back for him… Doesn't that make you a good person?"

Agravaine was quiet, shifting uncomfortably. He wasn't sure how to answer that. "I mean, I guess it means I'm not totally _evil_."

Selices took in the answer quietly, pondering on it. "Your schoolmates will come for you," he finally said.

Agravaine was quiet. "I _hope_ they do," he finally replied. He wasn't sure they would, though. Selices nodded then slid off the perch he'd been sitting on and walked away. Agravaine watched after him. He wanted to call him back, he was really missing conversation about now, but he didn't. Just observed. The elf was unexpected…

KAK

The dorm houses slunk up to the crest of a hill and peered over it. In the distance stood a massive and solitary tower. "Creepy much?" Lionel deadpanned.

"The Dolorous Tower," Pellinore gravely said. "It is a horrible place."

"What must be done must be done. No soldier left behind," Degore militaristically stated.

"How do we get in?" Lionel asked.

"Therein lies the problem," Galehaut said.

"Storm it," Menaduke stated.

"And get cut down? No thanks," Arthur replied.

"We could send the sneakiest ones ahead to get rid of the guards on the outside. If we can disguise ourselves as them, we'll have a way into the tower and we'll be able to move relatively freely until they discover the bodies," Accolon offered.

"It could work," Meleagant agreed. "Of course I think we're doomed either way, but whatever. Not like anyone cares what I think."

"I'm right there _with_ you," Balan dryly replied.

"Ditto," Gareth stated.

"You're bringing down morale, boys. Eyes on the prize. We will succeed, we will succeed, we will succeed," Bedivere said.

"So who's going down?" little Loholt asked. There was no response from the teachers. Frowning curiously, the boys turned to the faculty. "Sirs?" Loholt pressed.

The fifteen men were all silently communicating with one another. They seemed to come to a mutual agreement and looked back at the students. "Sit, boys," Pellinore said. "We need to talk." The students looked puzzled, exchanging looks, but nevertheless obeyed, curious as to what was suddenly so impotant. The teachers knelt in front of them all. Pellinore rested his hands on his knees, examining each face. "We need you to understand very, very clearly what's about to happen here."

"We're going to bust in and get our brother back?" Gareth flatly replied.

"You're going into battle," Galehaut said simply. "Not a fake one, not a game, it will be real, and it will be bloody."

"Hate to break it to you, Galehaut, but some of us have already fought in a real battle. The rebel kings, remember?" Arthur said.

Carados shot Arthur an ugly scowl. Galehaut gave the boy king a condescending look. "This is going to be nothing like the fight against the rebel kings. You negotiated you way out the first time. The second time it was the knights that _defected_ from them who did the fighting, and that was after Balin and Balan got them all high. The bloodshed that happened during that time was virtually nonexistent. There were casualties, but not like there will be here."

Ector, sighed, looking down, then faced the boys again. "You never saw clearly the faces of the men who died on that battlefield, when the rebel kings came… But you'll see them plainly now… You'll look into their eyes as your blades enter their bodies, and you'll watch the life in them fade. You'll feel them slip away… And there'll be no telling yourselves that you didn't do it this time… You will go down there, and you will kill, and you will be covered in blood that isn't your own and there'll be no coming back from it, do you understand me? Once you kill, there's no coming back. That sight will haunt you the rest of your lives… And this isn't how we wanted you to end up. Not now. Not this soon." He said it to all of them, but his eyes were fixed painfully on Kay and Arthur. Kay bowed his head, closing his eyes. He understood. Arthur looked confused. _Most_ of the younger students looked a bit puzzled. Like they didn't wholly understand what was being said. Like they got the permanence of death, yeah, but just… didn't understand it; didn't understand what this meant. Not like the older students did.

Finally, though, Aglovale said, "I'd rather have the blood of a stranger on my hands than the blood of a friend… Send me and those in _my_ peer group down to them, father. Only us, along with you and the other faculty. It was just a matter of time before we would have seen true battle anyway… We're ready. We have been for a while… Besids, at our ages we're probably overdue." Pellinore's heart twisted inside of him to hear his oldest speak like that. He grimaced, closing his eyes and looking away for a moment. Aglovale was pushing his twenties, at this point. It was sometimes hard to remember that. He still saw a child of nine, not a youth of nineteen just on the cusp of becoming a man…"

"Those of you eighteen and older will join us on the front lines," Morholt said finally. "The rest will stay back until the guards outside are dealt with. When we give the signal, the rest of you may follow, but not a moment before. For now, we go back into the forest and prepare. The blades need to be sharpened, bows need to be restrung, the arrows maintained… Tomorrow we'll make our move." The students nodded in agreement, the younger ones suddenly looking a whole lot more uncomfortable with what was happening.

 _From the underbrush a figure listened and observed…_


	10. Assault on the Dolorous Tower

Assault on the Dolorous Tower

 **A NEW CHARACTER EMERGES**

 **Selices/Celises of the Dolorous Tower:** Selices is a soldier of the Dolorous Tower, the best the evil brothers Caradoc, not Briefbas, and Turquinie have. Their other men live in terror of him and when he is spotted in the halls other soldiers move as far to the side as possible, his name whispered like saying it too loud will summon him. It probably could too. Given he's an elf, he could hear them easily enough. Kidnapped from his people at a young age and imprisoned by the giants, Selices in early life was severely abused and conditioned, the giants clipping his ears, filing his teeth, and in teenage years carving intricate patterns into his skin to heal as elaborate scars to add to his terror. He escaped once to try and find the elves despite Caradoc and Turquine telling him they would have nothing to do with him because **[REDACTED]**. **[REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" - Merlin._** After that attempt at escape he didn't try anymore. For years he was used like a toy by the evil brothers and many of their men, but the older he got the fiercer he became until soon the generic soldiers began to fear him more than want him, with special exceptions like if he was used as a reward for something Caradoc and Turquine approved of. His weapons of choice are makeshift claws attached to his fingers. The armor he wears is unnecessarily sexualized and reminiscent of bondage for obvious reasons, given the sort of men the evil brothers are—more Turquine than Caradoc, the latter of which prefers traditional torture to the sort Turquine likes—but it is light, maneuverable, dangerous, and leaves lots of room for motion which is ideal for the elven fighting style, so Selices has become accepting of it most of the time.

 **Parents:** [REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_

 **Siblings:** [REDACTED] _"Have a nice day!" – Merlin_

 **In-Laws:** Unknown

 **Paramour:** Unknown

 **Children:** Unknown

 **Uncles:** Unknown

 **Aunts:** Unknown

 **Cousins:** Unknown

* * *

Agravaine sat cold in his cell, shivering. Caradoc had come to taunt him. He'd been stupid and gotten defiant, so he'd been beaten near unconscious and stripped to the loincloth. He was lucky to even have _that_. The giant had said something like 'freeze here', but he hadn't really been paying attention given, you know, he'd been fighting to stay conscious. Now he was freezing, scared, and really despising being near naked in this place given Servause's implications about what Turquine might have liked to play at with him. He… he just wanted to go home… He wanted his dad and his siblings and even his mom. Tentatively.

He heard the familiar tapping of nails against bars. He sniffed, looking up wearily. Selices. Selices was the reason he hadn't had every bone in his body broken, or been killed, by Caradoc. Selices was the reason he had at least the loincloth to his name. He'd just been screaming for help and begging for mercy and sobbing and struggling to get away from Caradoc, not thinking anyone would come… But the elf did… He came and called off the man with a threat and a warning that Turquine wouldn't be happy if he didn't share the prisoner with him, so Caradoc had reluctantly backed off and ordered Selices to go scout for any potential threats as he went. Selices had then left too.

Now that the elf was back, Selices examined Agravaine quietly, jaw twitching uncomfortably on noticing the boy had been crying. "You're just a child," the elf murmured, shaking his head.

"Get lost," Agravaine replied, burying his face in his knees again. Again, wasn't like Selices could talk.

Selices watched him quietly for a moment. "What's the measure of a good man?" he suddenly asked.

Agravaine frowned, looking up curiously. "What?" he asked.

"What's the measure of a good man?" Selices repeated.

"I don't know! I'm a kid, remember?" Agravaine replied, a bit annoyed by the question. How was he supposed to respond to that? "Why are you even asking?"

Selices was quiet. "Will they spare good men? Your friends?" he soon asked.

Agravaine was quiet. "If they know they're good," he finally replied. "Kind of tough to figure out when _everyone's_ trying to kill you, though. Seriously, why are you asking?"

Selices thought over his answer. "They're coming for you… Tomorrow… I heard them… They're readying for battle."

Agravaine perked up hopefully. "Th-they are?" he asked.

Selices nodded. "They'll kill whoever stands in their way," he said in a murmur, and Agravaine immediately sobered, catching on. Whoever was in their way… Selices would be in their way… So would others who might have been put into the same situation the elf had been. Men who didn't deserve that fate and who deserved for once some good in their lives. Agravaine stared. "What is the measure of a good man?" Selices murmured more to himself than to Agravaine this time.

Agravaine shifted uncomfortably. "Are there men here who deserve to be spared?" he soon asked.

"I don't know," Selices replied, looking down. He'd never bothered to think about it before.

"Okay, let's try this another way. Who in this tower for sure _doesn't_ deserve it? Who… who's hurt you? And others? Who watches and snickers? Who taunts those that are broken or have been used for Caradoc and Turquine's pleasure?" Agravaine said, trying another approach. "Who would you, personally, want to see dead?"

Selices' jaw tightened, and a scowl crept across his face. Apparently there were a lot who fit that description. "Okay. That's something," Agravaine said. He thought a moment. "You protected me from Caradoc, or tried to, so now let me repay the favor. I'm going to tell you what you need to do." Selices looked quickly to him, intently listening now. "Do you have authority here?"

"I am the most elite of Caradoc and Turquine's soldiers," Selices confirmed. "I rose quickly."

"Yeah, I can see an elf having that advantage," Agravaine flatly replied. "Okay. So if you have authority, then go to every man you would love to see dead and assemble a battalion out of them. Put them outside to guard the tower, tomorrow. When my friends, err, schoolmates, come, they'll be put in the ground."

"There are more than could be sent outside without suspicion," Selices said.

"Okay. I'm going to assume you're crazy skilled, so here's what you need to do. Every man you don't want dead, find him and subdue him and bring him down here into the dungeons. Start now so you have a chance of getting them all in here by tomorrow. Lock them up, leave them. When the others come for me, they'll be protected. They aren't going to kill men locked in cells. Or men who beg for their lives for that matter unless it's for a damn good reason. Then just… just stay away from them. Hide or hang out with me or something, just don't go up to meet them. Don't get in their way. You'll live, the men you feel could be deserving of life will live, and everything will be okay, alright?" Agravaine said. Selices shifted uncomfortably. "Selices," Agravaine said. The elf looked over. "Alright?" he repeated. Selices was still, but then meekly nodded. "Okay. Trust me, and know I never, ever, _ever_ suggest anyone ever do that. This, though, is kind of a special exception… I'll watch your back, okay? I'll vouch for you."

Selices was quiet. "I'm not a a good man," he finally said. "So I won't deny whatever fate comes to me."

"No, no, you don't be thinking like that. You're a good man, okay? You're a good man. Elf. Whatever. If you weren't, I'd be in a lot worse shape than I am now. You're a good person. You deserve to live," Agravaine said.

"You can't judge that," he replied.

"Ideally no human could, but currently we're all we have, so yeah, this round I can," Agravaine said. "You deserve to live, okay?"

Selices sighed. "Alright," he relented.

"Good. Now get going. Round up every man you think deserves life, like I told you to, and get them down here. Don't raise eyebrows, though. If it can be helped," Agravaine said. Selices nodded and immediately set off to do what Agravaine told him to. Agravaine let out a shaking breath, leaning back against the wall worriedly. He really, really hoped this worked.

KAK

The teachers crouched with the older students on the cusp of the hill, looking down at the misty tower with all the guardsmen outside. There were more than they'd expected, but they stayed calm. After a moment, Sir Pertilope of GKA raised his hand. Silently they prepared their bows, each taking aim at a separate target.

"Steady!" Pertilope said. They remained still. Pertilope waited a moment more then lowered his hand quickly. Arrows flew, whistling through the air as they closed the distance to their targets. Every arrow met its mark. Not every arrow killed, but every arrow struck. Men dropped dead, others screamed in pain and collapsed, injured mortally or bad enough they wouldn't get up for a while, and alarm broke out, the men scrambling to find their assailants and take them on. Pertilope raised his hand again. The teachers and older students all readied their bows once more. Pertilope lowered the hand and the arrows went forth once more, taking out even more of the outside guard. Now, though, they were on the alert and had spotted their opponents. "Move out!" Pertilope ordered.

Immediately the older students and teachers clambered over the hill and charged down it to face the attacking guards. The arrows had done their job, and most had been wiped out or put out of commission, but a good number still ran to face them. The groups clashed, but the guards stood little chance against the onslaught. Soon they lay dead or out of commission, and the teachers and older students were peeling off the men's equipment. Pellinore whistled a signal for the younger boys to come. They did so quickly and began to take armor off the dead bodies to put on themselves. Most of them were visibly disturbed by it, but they trooped on. They didn't have a choice at this point. Agravaine's life depened on it. The children couldn't fit into the armor, of course, so it was decided they would be 'captives'. It would give them a semi-believable lie, if nothing else. Once they were geared up, the group move to enter the forboding tower.

"Agravaine has a change o' heart and this is how he's repaid," Stephen dryly said as they walked into the grim, dark, and frankly horrifying place. It was freezing in here, and musty. It smelled of decay and illness and death. "Way t' encourage uprightness. He should have let 'em have me."

"Don't say that," Morholt seriously warned, giving him a look. "Don't you dare."

"I agree with Morholt. And you'll never catch me saying as much at any other time," Tristan dryly said.

"But he…" Stephen began.

"Our brother betrayed you. To protect IAK, yes, but he betrayed you nonetheless," Gaheris said. "Don't think for a moment that was excusable. He redeemed himself which is all well and dandy, but it ended like this anyway. Now it's _our_ job to ensure it doesn't get worse for him than it already is."

"Let's focus on the mission, guys. We should split up. Try and find the dungeon or somewhere they could be keeping Agravaine," Dornar said, taking in the environment warily. Oh he didn't like it here.

"You there!" Turquine's voice suddenly shot from behind. They all spun quickly to face him. He looked the children over. "Captives. Good. Our attackers are that much weaker. Not that children could have done much. Throw them in the cells." He commanded. Looking to Morholt, he said, "You. Come with me. We're going to go collect our newest prisoner. I need to sharpen my blade."

"Sharpen your blade? How…" a boy from RKA, Lambaile in fact, began. He trailed off quickly, though, stopping himself from blowing their cover. Stephen, for his part, was pale. Morholt was stiff. Finally, though, he approached Turquine.

Turquine looked back at the rest of them and said, "Lock the brats away in the secondary dungen then get back to your posts! If the little ones are here, the others can't be far away." With that he walked off, Morholt following him cautiously.

KAK

The minute Turquine and Morholt were out of sight, the rest of them grouped together. "Why do they need Agravaine to sharpen a sword?" Constantine asked.

"Because t' sharpen their swords, they superheat the blade and plunge it inta the body o' a captive or a slave to temper it! They claim t' believe it makes it sharper, but that's a lie. They do it because they're sadistic bastards!" Servause replied, panic in his tone. Panic quickly followed for the rest of them too.

"What do we do? We can't let them kill our brother!" Loholt exclaimed.

"Morholt will stall as long as he can," Tristan said. He couldn't believe he was putting faith in Morholt, but this situation sort of required it.

"That's not good enough! They're going to kill him!" Gareth yelled.

"We won't let them," Gaheris promised. "We won't. Right Gawain?" he uncertainly added.

Gawain was pale. "We-we have to hurry," he replied.

"No more hiding, no more playing subtle. Now we cut them down. Stay in groups, meet on the top floor. That's where Agravaine will be!" Caradoc Briefbas said. Immediately the schools split up and began a massive swep through the tower, the teachers and older students moving ahead of the younger ones and cutting down any who stood in their way with as little noise as possible. In not long, however, the alarm was sounded, and the jig was up. Now it was do or die…

KAK

Selices camped by Agravaine's cell, sitting on his perch and staring at the nervous boy. They'd both heard the fighting outside, through the dungeon cracks, as men fell. It was silent now, but soon the others would be in the tower. At least Agravaine hoped. Unless it had been _them_ falling and not Caradoc and Turquine's men. Footsteps were heard approaching. Agravaine caught his breath. Selices looked over and tensed up, bristling upon seeing who was coming. Turquine, approaching with a guardsman who seemed unfamiliar to the elf.

"Selices, on your feet," Turquine ordered. "Unlock the boy's cell and bring him out to us. We're taking him into the tower, all of us." Selices' eyes widened slightly in alarm. He looked quickly to Agravaine, who seemed surprised at this. The boy looked questioningly and confusedly to Selices. Selices' jaw twitched. The tower… That was never, ever good. For a moment he was still, but soon he moved to obey the order, unlocking the cell and going in to retrieve the boy.

"What's in the tower?" Agravaine whispered.

"Nothing good," Selices replied. "I will try and buy you all the time I can. You only need a little more." Agravaine nodded, but was visibly unnerved.

KAK

Meliot and a teacher by the name of Amide Banier, aptly nicknamed Plaine de Force, raced up the tower steps with Agravaine's brothers, cousins, and Arthur. Meliot and Banier cut down those who stood in their way, thus far doing an excellent job at keeping the hands of their students clean, for which the two were quite proud. Tears of anger and hatred shone in Mordred's eyes as they ran up the steps. He was particularly close to Agravaine, you see. They bottlenecked against a group of Knights trying to beat them back down, Amide and Meliot holding the front valiantly. The students with them restelessly pushed to try and get in their own strikes. The sooner these men were out of the way, the sooner they could save their relative dang it! The two teachers, though, made sure it wasn't going to be easy for them to jump in and start killing. Not that it kept back _everyone_ …

Mordred, agitated and impatient now, searched around for a way to get around this inconvenient blockade. He spotted a window sill and crept towards it. Unseen, he clambered onto it and crouched, drawing a little dagger daddy… Lot… had given him. He watched the opponents carefully then suddenly leapt from it, pouncing on one of the men and stabbing him with extreme prejudice. The man gasped in pain and fell back. The other knights of the Dolorous Tower were totally taken by surprise when the toddler had pounced from nowhere and driven his dagger to the hilt into their comrade's chest. It wasn't a fatal blow, but the teachers would soon make it so. Meliot immediately finished the man off and pressed on to the others while Banier snatched Mordred, dragging him away. He threw the boy back into the arms of a visibly shocked and slightly horrified Arthur, who stared at Mordred like he was a gremlin or something. Mordred stuck out his tongue defiantly.

"Have you gone crazy, Mordred?!" Gareth shot, snapping out of his shock. "You could have been killed!" Mordred harrumphed, not commenting. Loholt and Ywain suddenly darted under the teachers, cutting the legs of another man who also fell with a shout of pain. This time Amide finished him off while Meliot quickly herded Loholt and Ywain back to their family. The man was now visibly annoyed and concerned. The little children were getting too bold. This was becoming a game to them. The permanence of death was _totally_ lost on little ones of this age, or almost was, so they were going to end up being a detriment if they couldn't be kept in check. The second the line of opponents was downed, they began to rapidly ascend the stairs once more.

"Agravaine, we're coming!" Yvain cried out as the other students and teachers began to rejoin them again, coming out of secret entrances, leaping from higher areas, or racing up from below. Their progress was astounding, and honestly Arthur was amazed at the ease with which they were doing this. When you worked together, he guessed. Go figure. Teamwork _worked_.

KAK

Agravaine was led up to the highest floor of the tower through a back passageway. They came into a large room. The boy scowled murderously as Caradoc approached them, joining Turquine. Turquine went to the furnace and began to heat his sword in the flames. Agravaine's heart began to pound. "Wh-what are you doing?" he demanded.

"Sharpening my blades," Turquine replied.

Sharpening his…? Agravaine paled, Stephen's words coming back to him. To sharpen a sword—or was it forging or was it both?—they would plunge the blazing hot metal into a servant's body for some reason he couldn't recall... "Oh god," Agravaine said in a whisper. Selices looked uneasy and pale now too. "Let me go! Let go!" Agravaine suddenly panicked, fighting desperately to get away.

"To turn on us again? I think not," Caradoc replied. "Your time is up."

"Calm yourself, Agravaine. I will stall as long as I can," the Knight holding him whispered. Agravaine stiffened.

"Sir Morholt," he said with a gasp. Wait. Morholt didn't know Selices wasn't a threat!

"Caradoc, Turquine, intruders in the tower!" a Knight exclaimed suddenly, bursting into the room with a group of five more behind him. He spotted the one holding Agravaine. "He's one of them!" the man exclaimed, pointing at the teacher. Almost before the word had left his mouth, the man was lunging at Morholt. Selices leapt into action, swiftly moving between the six knights and their target, meeting them head on. Morholt gawked in shock. What had just happened here? One of Turquine and Caradoc's own was _turning_? For what reason?!

"Selices!" Agravaine exclaimed in alarm. Morholt looked quickly at the boy. So Agravaine had made a little ally, had he? Good boy. Unfortunately, one man might not be enough this time.

Rage reflected in Turquine and Caradoc's eyes upon hearing of the intruder among them, and upon seeing Selices turn to protect said intruder. "If that man is one of our enemies, then he will die just like the slave!" Turquine roared angrily, withdrawing his sword from the flames.

"Agravaine, run!" Morholt ordered, letting Agravaine go and drawing his sword.

Agravaine gasped and ran to attempt to flee, but one of the six knights Selices was facing broke away and caught him before he could get escape, swinging him roughly around to face the blades of the giants. "Help!" Agravaine screamed. Before either of his allies could even react or register what had happened, though, the red hot steel of Turquine's blade was plunged up to the hilt into his stomach! Agravaine cried out in agony, doubling over.

"Agravaine!" Morholt shouted, trying to break away from his fight with Caradoc to run to the boy. Caradoc, though, wouldn't let him go.

"No…" Selices breathed freezing upon seeing this. "No!" he exclaimed, trying to run to Agravaine as well. The five knights he'd been facing though—four now seeing as he'd finished off one of them—quickly moved to keep him away from the boy for as long as possible.

Agravaine looked up at Turquine with a gasp, eyes wide. Turquine twisted the blade and Agravaine caught his breath, shutting his eyes tightly and groaning. The man withdrew the sword, now red and glistening with blood. Agravaine's body jerked slightly. He tasted blood in his mouth and began shaking. "And mine, brother," Caradoc said, switching off with Turquine easily, Turquine now locking Morholt in battle as Caradoc grabbed a sword that was currently heating up from out of the furnace.

"I will go in his stead, I will go in his stead!" Morholt pled with Turquine. "Let me go in his stead!"

"Hah! You will join him soon enough," Turquine replied. Caradoc closed the distance between himself and Agravaine, and drove the superheated blade into the child's body as well. At that very moment the doors burst open and Agravaine's relatives stumbled onto the scene…

KAK

His brothers, cousins, and uncle all froze in place, going white upon seeing what was happening. Mordred's lips parted in a silent scream until suddenly he found his voice again. "Agravaine!" the child shrieked desperately.

Agravaine gasped and looked over, eyes filled with pain and hope. His family! They looked on, mouths agape. Gareth was the first to physically react. "You bastards!" he screamed, lunging immediately. The others tore after him. The Knight facing off against Selices, and the knight holding Agravaine, immediately attempted to flee. Selices held his ground and probably would have been cut down if Moholt hadn't broken away from Turquine and seized the elf, placing the unexpected ally behind himself so he could act as a barrier for the stranger. It didn't seem the others had quite registered his presence anyway. They were busy disposing of the knights who were trying to flee from their wrath, and busy fighting off the other Dolorous guardsmen who were coming up from behind. Not that there were all that many left after their sweep.

Caradoc withdrew his sword from Agravaine, quickly retreating into the back passageway with Turquine following him. They were getting away! Agravaine collapsed to the ground and lay still, eyes wide and blinking numbly. He heard voices. The other bording houses. The students and teachers all. They called his name, screaming bloody murder…

He was aware of something, suddenly. Gawain and Carados. They were there. Gawain was in tears. "Don't do this, don't do this to us," his brother pled, placing his hand behind his brother's head. "Agravaine, please, you have to pull through. Don't make me go back to dad and mom with this! Carados, help him, please!"

Carados looked grim. "I… I don't know if there is anything we can do, Gawain…" he answered gravely.

"No," Gawain whispered, shaking his head.

Agravaine sobbed. "I don't want to die," he said, closing his eyes tightly.

"I won't let you," Gawain vowed, clutching his sibling's hand tightly and feeling a tear slip down his cheek. He bent, resting his forehead against his brothers and holding him close. "I won't let you," he promised again.


	11. Healing Touch

Healing Touch

The battle was finally over. It was won, if you could call it won… The knights of the Tower were dead, say for the ones who'd been locked in the dungeons by Selices. Caradoc and Turquine, however, had escaped in the confusion angrier than ever before. They had left with a vow that they would be back, that this wasn't over, that forever they would curse their newfound enemies' names. The students and teachers all staggered out of that place, drained and weak but alive. Injured definitely, some quite badly at that—mostly the older students who'd been on the front lines so to speak, students under eighteen hadn't seen much for fighting playing backup and all—but right now that was the _least_ of their concerns…

Bleoberis carried Agravaine's body in his arms. Perhaps body wasn't the right term. Body implied the boy was dead. He wasn't… Yet… The blazing hot swords that had impaled him had cauterized the wounds also. Of course, not enough to save him, not likely, but enough to buy him a few more minutes.

Bleoberis laid the dying boy down on the grass. His eyes were shut. He'd slipped into unconsciousness. Mordred, tears burning his eyes, crawled up to Agravaine and sniffed, cuddling close to his big brother's body. Loholt cuddled against the other side, sobbing. Ywain, Yvain, Constantine, and Galeschin stood back, tears in their eyes. Agravaine stirred slightly, but it almost seemed like he was afraid to awaken. "You're safe, Agravaine. You're out," Gawain cooed reassuringly, voice breaking.

"I'm sorry… I shouldn't have-have let you go alone," Gaheris said, reaching out and combing his fingers gently through his sibling's hair in a coaxing manner… It was what father did… Whenever they were very ill and too weak to want to move… Lot wasn't here to be the pillar of strength this time, though.

Agravaine moaned slightly. Gaheris withdrew his hand. Agravaine's eyes flickered open confusedly. "You should have stayed away…" Servause quietly said to him, voice breaking. "I-I didn't want-want this t' happen."

Agravaine frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about? You're acting like I'm…" he began. He trailed off, paling. His hands automatically went to the two gaping wounds from which blood still flowed. "Dying…" he finished. "I… Am I…? I'm dying…" he realized.

"Yes," Bagdemagus softly said. Agravaine was quiet, blinking. Kay bowed his head low, as did many of the others.

"You know, it's… it's not as… as bad as I thought it would be…" Agravaine said, voice surprisingly even and calm. Arthur swallowed dryly. If Agravaine truly felt that way, he was a braver man than _him_.

"There has to be _something_ we can do, _anything_!" Geraint insisted.

The teachers were silent. "It's a rare thing when students die during their time at Worcestershire… But it's happened…" Pellinore numbly said.

"And it never gets any easier… Especially not in those instances when these questions must be asked of them…" Caradoc Briefbas said.

"What questions?" Dinadan asked, numbly staring at Agravaine.

"Ones that no child should ever have to answer," Bors the Elder said, protectively squeezing the shoulders of his sons. Pellinore cleared his throat and went to his little brood quietly, just to be near them. Ector pulled Arthur and Kay closer. Even Bagdemagus suddenly seemed much more interested in watching over his son Meleagant, who gave his father a vulnerable look before turning to look at Agravaine again.

"Ask them," Agravaine finally whispered, willing back tears.

No one moved to reply. Finally, though, Meliot stepped forward. "You will not make it home alive. Not likely… And if that's the case, Morgause and Lot will not be able to… to arrange this… What sorts of flowers do you want at your funeral?" he asked, hating the question.

"There won't _be_ a funeral!" Gareth practically screamed in tears. "There _can't_ be! There can't!"

"I don't care," Agravaine numbly said. He couldn't feel his body… "Maybe chrysanthimums…"

"The music?" Meliot gently asked. He had had to do this too many times already… Gods, please. Do not let this boy join the names of the others…

Agravaine was quiet. He glanced over at Lamorak, Tristan, and Palamedes. All three felt their hearts drop. "Will you play and sing, Lamorak, Tristan…?" he questioned. Arthur was stunned at how calm and maturely Agravaine was taking this. Did he not realize what was happening to him?

"Yes," Lamorak answered, voice breaking.

"Yes," Tristan repeated, voice tired and drained and sad.

"And Palamedes, you will help compose a song? Don't be too rough," Agravaine said.

"Yae… And the song shall speak no ill of the dead…" Palamedes answered, feeling a burning sensation in his eyes.

"Don't be _that_ flattering," Agravaine wryly replied.

"Where… where would you like to be buried…?" Meliot questioned. Agravaine blinked blankly.

 _Buried, buried, buried_ …

It hit him… Buried… He wouldn't survive… He wouldn't come back! "I was always partial to Avalon… But then that's a King's resting place, isn't it…? Not a place fo… for traitors…"

Arthur, tears burning his eyes, clenched his teeth angrily and his fists. Suddenly he stepped forward. "And you'll have a king's burial. For what you did, for trying to correct your mistake, for saving Servause's life… You aren't the villain, Agravaine. You're the hero. You're the hero, and you'll _damn_ well be buried like one…" Arthur declared. Agravaine looked up at his Uncle, slightly taken aback. Also a little touched.

"Uncle…?" he asked, unsure he'd heard right.

"Avalon will welcome you by the time I'm done… You _won't_ have a traitor's grave. I swear it…" Arthur promised.

"Arthur?" Lancelot said in shock. That was… wow… He… He'd acted like a king… Like really, _really_ acted like a king.

"You didn't think about yourself or how you could benefit or how you were suffering… Your order was selfless…You've spoken like a ruler…" Galehaut said, meeting Arthur's eyes steadily.

Arthur felt like retorting, but he also felt oddly flattered. Now wasn't the time to think of himself, though. He turned back to Agravaine. "You will have a king's burial," he repeated.

Agravaine suddenly sobbed. "I don't want to die, I don't want to die! Don't let me die!" he screamed in fear, writhing desperately. His brothers did all they could to hold him still. "I don't want to die!"

" _Dammit_! Not this time," Carados sharply and suddenly said, immediately moving forward and desperately trying to tend to Agravaine's wounds. It was in vain, he knew. Without some sort of magical power, it was all in vain. "Stay with us, Agravaine! Stay with us!"

Lancelot blinked and swallowed tightly. "I… I don't know if this will work…" he said softly. They turned to him. He shook his head and approached, kneeling by Agravaine. "Nimue, hear me. Spare him… Please, spare him…" he said out loud, calling upon the Lady of the Lake. _They_ didn't know her, but he did. He and a choice few others… Namely his cousins Lionel and Bors and his brother Hector… all of which looked meaningfully at him and nodded…

"The Lady of the Lake?" a voice asked in a shocked breath.

Lancelot looked quickly over and gasped, seeing an elf standing at Morholt's side dressed in Dolorous armor! Or lackthereof. The fact he was an elf explained his knowledge of the Lady of the Lake. Morholt's near presence to him told Lancelot that for whatever reason, this particular Dolorous Elite was protected. He'd worry about arguing that decision later. First Agravaine. He looked back at the boy. "Nimue, please… hear me…" he pled again.

No response, for a moment, but then he heard Brunor whisper something under his breath. Lancelot looked over. There, in the mist, a woman appeared, walking towards them barefoot and looking like an apparition. They gasped and began to back away murmuring uneasily, say for those who knew of her. She approached the dying Agravaine and looked down upon the boy. Lancelot rose slowly. "You wish to spare a betrayer… He will not return this favor to you, child," she said to Lancelot.

Lancelot winced and looked down at Agravaine. "Maybe not in an equal way, but in smaller deeds he will… He always does… Please…" he answered.

The Lady of the Lake stared at him quietly, then looked back to the boy. "The Round Table will fall… He will play a role in its demise," she said.

Constantine tugged Arthur's tunic. "Uncle, what's the Round Table?" he asked.

"Don't know, but I like the sound of it," Arthur replied.

"Shh," Percival hissed at them.

"Just heal him," Lancelot begged. "I'll take my chances."

The Lady of the Lake tilted her head at her adoptee, then turned back to the dying boy whose side he stood at. "Very well," she finally answered. She waved her hand over Agravaine gently and softly started to hum a melancholy tune. Almost immediately the wounds began to heal. They watched on in shocked disbelief as they started to close up. She didn't heal him fully, whether she couldn't or just chose not to who could say, but she healed him enough. Enough that Carados and Gawain still had a chance to bring him back… "The rest is for you to do," she said. With that she vanished.

"Who _was_ that?" Ermind asked.

"Someone," Lancelot vaguely answered. Sir Meliot watched after her silently and solemnly. Lancelot looked back at Agravaine, now unconscious again. Immediately Carados began to tend him once more, determined to keep the boy alive by any means necessary. He did _not_ want to be the one telling Lot that one of his sons had been killed. It was going to be hard enough bringing Agravaine back to him in stable condition.

"I know of a plant that can help," Selices spoke up. All eyes went to him, now, as if seeing him for the first time. He immediately felt like he'd made a mistake and now stood in the middle of hostile territory…

KAK

"Who is this?" Mordred darkly asked, glaring at the elf who was dressed as an enemy.

"I don't know," Morholt replied. "Agravaine called him Selices and seemed quite concerned about his welfare, so I assume he's a friend of your brother's."

"What _kind_ of friend?" Gareth dryly asked, looking his apparel over dubiously. Selices flinched.

"That's Agravaine's to answer," Morholt replied. He turned to the elf. "You know of a plant that will help him, you say?" Selices nodded.

"Then find it. Bring it back to me as soon as you can," Carados said. "We'll get Agravaine to our camp and…"

"There will be patrols outside the tower, in the woods," Selices said in warning. "Turquine and Caradoc will seek them, and then battle will open anew… I'll go alone. It will be safer that way. I am still their ally, as far as they know."

"As far as _we_ know too," one of the more suspicious students replied. Selices shifted uncomfortably and looked away.

Arthur watched the elf carefully, examining him. He inwardly winced to see the clipped ears. What had this guy gone through here, at the hands of the giants…? He shifted, considering the options. "I… I think we should give him a chance," he said.

"What?" Gareth asked, shooting a dark look at his uncle.

"We don't have a choice. It might cost Agravaine his life if we don't. If he doesn't come back, we're no worse off than we already are. We can't risk moving Agravaine, so even if this Selices leads the patrols _to_ us, it wouldn't even matter. They'd have come back eventually anyway. Without that plant, Agravaine's screwed and we'll probably be too. At least this way there's a chance," Arthur said. There was silence, the students and teachers all looking uncomfortably at one another. Arthur turned to Selices. "Go. Just… just hurry. Please."

Selices, grateful for the vote of confidence, nodded, racing away to search the forest for the plant. They watched after him as he disappeared. "We should leave," Bedivere finally said. "We can move Agravaine if we're careful, but we can't be here when he comes back. He'll bring his allies with him, and probably Caradoc and Turquine. Even if he doesn't, the giants are going to come back like Arthur said. We don't want to be hanging around when they do."

"Anyone who wants to go can go, but I'm staying right here," Arthur stubbornly replied.

"As am I," Gawain said. Whatever it took to save his sibling. Carados grunted in unspoken agreement as well, busily focused on tending to some of Agravaine's many, many other wounds.

"What did they do to him?" Loholt asked, tears burning his eyes as he stared at Agravaine.

"Flogged him, beat him, injured his head, dehydrated him, chilled him," Caradoc answered. And stripped him… But that went without saying. No one had wanted to acknowledge that yet, for fear of what else might have been done in the wake of stripping him.

Agravaine began to stir again. His eyes flickered weakly open. "I'm-I'm alive?" he mumbled weakly.

"For now," Carados confirmed.

"And you'll stay that way," Dagonet added.

"Wh-where's the elf? Wh-where's Selices?" Agravaine asked, becoming concerned.

"He's gone to find a plant that he says might help," Gawain soothed gently. "He's alright… Who is he, Agravaine?"

Agravaine grimaced, looking a little uncomfortable at the question. "I… I don't know… Caradoc and Turquine's best fighter, I think, among their most elite… When his name was whispered in those halls, guards got out of the way like being in his path would mean death… I don't know how an elf ended up in that place with his ears clipped, and I don't think I _want_ to know, given the armor he wears."

"Which is none," Gareth put in.

"Yeah. That's some serious bongage crap he's got going on there," Dinadan said, grimacing.

"How did _you_ get on his good side?" Astomar, Alymere, asked. "I mean, no offense but your track record for making friends isn't great."

"Bite me," Agravaine replied. He fell silent. "When I feel like I can talk again, I'll tell you… Right now I just feel sick… And tired…" They let it go, giving him the chance to rest.

"Can he be trusted?" the suspicious student asked warily.

"I think he can," Agravaine replied.

KAK

Selices crept through the forest silently, keeping his ears open for any sounds of nearing patrols. He'd had to turn one patrol away from returning to the tower already. Time was running short. Agravaine needed to be taken from that place as soon as possible and brought where it was safe. Certainly safer than at the Dolorous Tower. Turquine and Caradoc would not be away from it long… They'd return with all those they could find along with them. A large part of their force had been wiped out, but they had more still.

He reached a stream and climbed a tree, looking towards a plant growing behind a small waterfall on a rock. He crept over the branch then reached out, taking hold of it and removing the petals and leaves. They were all he'd need, and it would grow those back in time. He tucked them away and quickly made his way out of the tree and back to the others. He almost expected them to have left. He knew they didn't trust him. He was a little surprised, honestly, to find them still there, anxiously waiting. He made his way to them. They saw him and went still, watching warily. He felt scrutinized but tried to ignore it, bringing the plant to Carados.

"Thank you," the man said, taking it from the elf. Selices nodded, glancing uneasily around and folding his arms self-consciously.

"Will you people stop looking at him like he has two heads?" Agravaine testily demanded. Selices looked quickly at him, surprised to see him conscious. His eyes had been closed, so he'd thought the boy was still out of it. "I'd be in a lot worse shape than this, and probably dead, if not for him." A bit shamed at this, they turned away.

"Thank you," Selices said quietly. He looked to Arthur, who'd thus far seemed about the only one willing to give him a shot at trust, and said, "I… I know a safe place you can go to tend him. Until Caradoc and Turquine's wrath dies down and you can safely move him. It's a glade, surrounded by cliffs, serene and peaceful and protected. It's not too far for you to risk moving him to. You can't stay here."

Arthur hesitated, unsure about moving Agravaine, but then nodded in agreement. "Okay," he said.

"I can't believe this," one of the other students said with a scoff, the suspicious one again.

"Down, Gautere," Banier warned.

"You have a better idea?" Arthur challenge. Gautere rolled his eyes but didn't answer. Arthur looked at Selices. "Show us," he said. Selices nodded.

KAK

The elf led them into the quiet glade, warily keeping alert in case any patrols happened to pass near by them. They lay Agravaine down, the boy unconscious again, and sat to tend him and wait until the pressure was off. Selices climbed up the cliffs towards an opening in the rock, and perched in it, keeping an eye on things. It wasn't long before two of the students joined him, probably sent by their teaches to make sure he didn't alert their enemies to their location. He glanced at the duo curiously.

"Well met, friend elf," one said. One with darker skin than most of the others.

Selices tilted his head at the two. The one who hadn't spoken stared at him quietly. After a moment he replied, "Well met."

"Thine name is Selices?" the dark one asked. Selices was quiet, but soon nodded. "'Tis all mine pleasure to maketh thine acquaintance, friend. I am Palamedes, son of King Esclabor."

Selices was quiet. He looked inquisitively at the other. "Lamorak, the son of King Pellinore," that other said.

Selices nodded. He looked back out towards the forest. "I'm going to go back," he soon said.

"Where?" Lamorak asked.

"The Tower," Selices replied.

The two were quiet. "Friend elf, you…" Palamedes began.

"I'm not going to betray you to them," Selices cut off.

Palamedes and Lamorak was quiet. "Selices, thou canst not go back to them. Thou hast become a traitor to the giants."

"They'll kill you," Lamorak agreed. Selices looked surprised that this was their concern. He stared at them like he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. "Come with us. You're a dead man walking if you go back."

Selices was quiet. Soon he looked away. "They won't. I'm too valuable to them… My return will turn their anger from you… You can escape…"

"They shall not let thee go unpunished," Palamedes protested.

"No. They won't," Selices confirmed. Palamedes looked over him and winced, glancing away. He wasn't sure he wanted to ask how they would punish him.

"Friend elf, we'll make it out without your sacrifice," Lamorak said. "A kingdom isn't far from here. Arthur's. The one who's been taking your side."

"Verily. All will be well if thou wouldst just trust us," Palamedes said. "If not us, then the ones who hath trusted thee."

Selices was quiet. "Very well," he finally answered.

KAK

Selices returned to the othes with Lamorak and Palamedes. Pellinore was scribbling a letter on some parchment, frowning to himself. Selices looked curious. Pellinore, feeling the elf's eyes on him, looked up and offered a wry smile. "Can you perchance communicate with animals like others of your kind? Agravaine's father, Lot of Orkney, is in this region of Brittania somewhere. I need to get this letter to him. He must know what befell his son. He can meet us in Far Far Away, then Lot can bring Agravaine safely home where he can heal."

"I can," Selices said.

"Good. Thank you," Pellinore said. He looked at the message and grimaced. "I'm not looking forward to facing the man." He folded it up.

"He is fierce?" Selices asked.

"He can be," Pellinore confirmed, standing. Selices nodded and looked towards the trees. He began to whistle towards them until finally a bird flew to him, perching on his arm. He smiled a bit ruefully and reached out, stroking its head. He whispered softly to it as it preened its feathers. The bird trilled then flew to Pellinore, snatching the note from his hand and flying away at a rapid pace. "You're handy to have around," Pellinore said, smirking at the boy. Selices wasn't meeting his eyes. He examined the elf quietly. "Bors, will you come here please?" he said, looking towards his fellow king. Bors, watching quietly, approached like he'd been expecting this. "How about you help Selices get a bit more comfortable?" Selices winced a bit at the choice of words. Bors gave Pellinore a warning look. Pellinore winced and sheepishly moved away from them.

Bors watched him go then turned to Selices, observing him quietly. "You have a… unique style to your dress," he soon remarked. Selices was quiet, staring at the bands about his arms. Bors examined them quietly. There were rings on them… Rings though which chains could be fastened… "For how long have you lived in the Dolorous Tower?" he finally asked. Silence. "Are you hungry?" Bors asked, trying another approach. Selices glanced over. "Come, sit," Bors said, gesturing for him to take a seat on a rock. After a moment, he did so. Bors sat near him and took some food from his rucksack. Berries wrapped in cloth. "I gathered them in the forest," Bors said. After a moment the elf took them and began to tentatively eat. He closed his eyes at the first bite, shivering like he hadn't tasted such sweetness in longer than he cared to remember. He ate them slowly like he believed he would never get the chance to again and wanted to enjoy them to the full. Bors quietly considered how to breach the elf's shell. It wouldn't be easy, if the elf had lived the sort of existence he expected he had. He looked around at the others. Brandelis was watching. His eyes hadn't left the elf once… Rather, the elf's bands and collar…

"How old are you?" he asked after a time.

Silence. "Fifty, thereabouts," the elf finally replied. Bors inwardly grimaced. Older than any of them, technically, but then elves didn't age the same.

"In human years?" he pressed.

Selices shifted. "I am not sure," he finally answerd. "Eighteen, maybe?"

Bors nodded. "A good age," he said. He looked at him. "You're very young, to be an elite in their army."

"Elfin blood and training aided in that," he answered. "And… and I was trained also in their army from when I first came to them…"

Bors nodded. "You chose to go with the giants then?" he asked. Selices' jaw twitched. He let out a breath, bowing his head and closing his eyes. "So you didn't…" Bors didn't press further. The elf would speak if he chose to.

"I… I was stolen," Selices finally said.

Bors hummed. "You're away from them now. You can go home," he said.

Selices was quiet. "I can never go back," he finally replied. Bors gave him a curious look. "They won't… they won't accept me."

"Selices…" Bors began.

"They _don't_ accept me," the elf cut off, fingers going subconsciously to his clipped and marred ears. Bors was quiet. He didn't like that word 'don't'. "Caradoc and Turquine told me they wouldn't… And they were right… They took me when I was small, ten or less in human years, thereabouts. They kept me there and they clipped my ears and filed my teeth, but I kept insisting I would get away and I would go home… And they told me they wouldn't accept me back. I would be rejected… I was imperfect now…" His fingers gripped at his ears again before he pulled them away in frustration. "I said they were wrong. They let me go to prove it… I found the elves again… And they saw me from afar, but they wouldn't come. Not even when I called to them. Not even when I begged… I was imperfect… Marred… They turned their backs on me and left me behind without a word. Rejected. Alone… Caradoc and Turquine found me. They told me I had no home anymore. Home was with them now… And they were right… I didn't belong among mortals, I was rejected among elves… There was only the Dolorous Tower…"

Bors felt there was more not being said, but he wouldn't press for information beyond what had been shared already. It was probably hard enough for the elfin boy to say _this_ much. "Pehaps if you made petition to the elf king…" he finally began.

"The elf king was the one who turned his back with all his company," Selices said quietly.

Bors was quiet. Finally, he reached into his bag, taking out fruit, and gave it to him to eat. Selices took it gratefully, looking a little bit relieved to have gotten that out. Bors patted his shoulder and rose, going towards Pellinore. Pellinore glanced over as the councillor came. "I proposed to you, a while back, setting up a support group for… Well, you know what for… Have you given it thought?"

Pelllinore was quiet. "It can't be carried out conventionally. You know that," he soon said.

"I know," he replied. "But the more children and young men and women who come to me with those sorts of stories, the more I see how much it's needed. There doesn't have to be a discussion, there doesn't have to be anything. I just want them to know they aren't alone…"

"How many in this group with us right now do you know of off the top of your head?" Pellinore asked after a moment.

"Three beyond any doubt now. Four possibles. Still more suspected," Bors replied.

"The world is sick," Pellinore bitterly said. Bors snorted in agreement. "Do what you think is best, when we return to the school." Bors nodded. "What do you need?" Pellinore asked.

"Just one who's willing to open up to the others," he answered. "But one thing at a time. Right now, getting out of this forest and putting Agravaine into his father's arms is the most important thing."

"Agreed," Pellinore replied.


	12. Dolorous Rescue

Dolorous Rescue

Under the cover of night, the schools slipped out of the glade and started towards Far Far Away. As the sun began to rise behind the castle, they arrived there. The town was sleepy and quiet. Soon, though, shops would be bustling with activity. Selices looked around in wonder. In fact every soul who hadn't been here yet did, awed by the place. "Wow… I had no idea Far Far Away was so nice!" Gary, Gures, said.

"Yeah, it's pretty I guess," Arthur replied, looking around. "Okay, maybe even beautiful," he added with a smirk. He looked towards the palace and stopped a moment. The others followed his gaze. They could see flags of Lothian and Orkney waving in the distance… Lot was there, and he was waiting. Here was hoping he hadn't just flat out taken over the place, Arthur dryly noted to himself. He started as Gawain galloped passed him on a horse. Gaheris followed his brother. Arthur winced. Must be nice having a dad you could run to when things got hard…

"You'll be alright, son. He wants his boy, not you," Ector assured, coming up alongside Arthur and squeezing his shoulder gently with a reassuring smile. The young king instantly regretted his previous thought. He _did_ have a father to run to when things got bad, and he hated that he sometimes forgot that. Arthur nodded, worried but comforted by his foster father's presence as well as the force he had behind him.

Gawain and Gaheris galloped into the courtyard where their father stood looking anxious and distracted. They leapt off their horses as Lot turned in their direction, running straight into his arms hugging him tightly. He blinked, surprised, then held them both in return. "Dad, I'm sorry," Gaheris said, voice breaking. "I-I couldn't protect him. I couldn't keep him safe! I should have followed him, I knew I should have but I didn't and he just, he…"

"Stop," Lot cut off, tightening his embrace a little more. "It wasn't your fault."

"I couldn't help him, dad," Gawain said, pulling away from his parent. "I didn't know what to do. There was just, there was so much blood and he was so hurt…" Lot felt his heart dropping into a pit. He swallowed painfully. He heard hooves and looked up. He felt his knees nearly buckle when he saw two horses riding towards him with a stretcher between them. He'd seen too many men born home upon those things never to get up again… "Agravaine," Lot choked out, tears threatening his eyes. "Agravaine!" he shouted, running towards his son and literally dragging him out of the stretcher and into his arms, clinging to him tightly and dropping to the ground.

Agravaine whimpered a bit, eyes flickering open. On seeing his father, immense relief and longing crossed his face. He grimaced, pushing himself against Lot's chest more. Lot clung tightly to him, fingers entwining in his hair, and staggered up, carrying his son in his arms. Arthur was just waiting for the man to tell him off for this being his fault, but he didn't. Lot carried Agravaine towards Gawain and Gaheris. Mordred and Loholt scrambled after the man, looking fearfully up at Agravaine and clinging to Lot's cloak. Lot gently nuzzled his wounded son and deposited him in the royal carriage he'd taken to get here. Mordred and Loholt scrambled in swiftly as well.

Pellinore winced and approached cautiously. "Will you be taking all your sons home then?" he asked carefully. Mordred and Loholt certainly didn't look inclined to depart from Agravaine's side.

"You said they'd be safe," Lot sharply replied.

"And usually they are, you know that," Pellinore replied, grimacing.

"Well they weren't _this_ time, were they?! What. Happened?" Lot demanded.

Pellinore was quiet. "Caradoc and Turquine," he finally replied.

Lot bristled at the names, eyes widening. Caradoc and Turquine… A dark scowl began to creep over his face. He turned to his soldiers. "Prepare for battle!" he ordered them sharply.

"Lot, that isn't the answer," Pellinore quickly said.

"They almost killed my son! _I_ don't care what you think the answer is," Lot replied.

"They'll be dealt with by…" Pellinore began.

"By _who_?! The child king who can't even sit on his own throne because he was so incompetent his aunt had to send him back to school?" Lot demanded, pointing at Arthur. Arthur winced. "Forgive my doubts that the 'high king' can face the threat that is Caradoc and Turquine." He turned to his knights. "We ride tomorrow! I will see those men…"

"King of Orkney and of Lothian!" a booming voice bellowed. Lot bristled, tensing up, and slowly turned to face whoever had shouted out to him. The students and teachers who'd ridden with Arthur were parted, staring in disbelief at a group of seven men under a flag of truce. And under the flag of the Dolorous tower.

A disgusted scowl crept across Lot's face. "Apparently the boy king can't even make sure he isn't being followed. Or anyone with him, it seems," he finally said. "You disappoint me, fellow kings. Galehaut at least I expected more competence from."

Galehaut chuckled coldly. "Be very careful, Lot," he warned.

Lot huffed and started to walk towards the men. Gawain reached out, taking his father's arm worriedly. Lot looked back at his son and removed the hand, shaking his head. He continued forward and paused, facing them. "State your business," he coldly said.

"We have a message from Caradoc and Turquine," the head of the seven men said.

"Speak it. And pray they won't be the last words you breathe," Lot said.

"You have something of ours!" the man said. Before anyone could react, Lot had cut off the man's head. The students gaped in horror. The eyes of any boy thirteen and under, and even some fourteen if they caught them, were covered tightly in a second. Arthur gaped in shock, eyes wide in horror.

Lot glared at the head darkly and bent, picking it up and looking into the dead eyes. "Wrong choice of words," he darkly said before throwing it into the middle of the rest, who seemed not even fazed at their comrade's death. "Try again."

"You've taken something they feel belongs to them," another more tactfully replied.

"Wiser man than your fellow was," Lot said, looking disgustedly at the headless body next to him. "Now take his corpse and return to your masters. Tell them that tomorrow they die with all their company."

"A funny thing. That was their message to _you_ , if you didn't hand over what they stole," a third man stated. "One way or another, they will reclaim him."

"If you think I'm handing that boy over to you, think again! Men, fire at well! Leave two alive to return. Put the rest down like dogs!" Lot ordered. Before Arthur or any of the other kings could cancel out the order, Lot's soldiers had obeyed. Four men collapsed to the ground, peppered in arrows. "Take their bodies with you," he ordered the two that still lived. Unfazed, they stooped to collect together the bodies, threw them over the backs of the horses they'd ridden, mounted up, and rode away calmly like nothing had happened.

The stunned students watched after them in shock. The teachers, though, glared darkly at Lot. "You've made a grave, grave mistake, king of Orkney," Bors finally said, tone icy.

"It's Arthur's problem to deal with now. I'm taking my children and we're going," Lot said.

"You can't start a war with them and just ride away! You were gung-ho to go after them before!" Arthur protested.

"That was prior to realizing they were coming for my son specifically," Lot answered.

"Then send your son home with his brothers, but you don't get to just throw me under the carriage like this!" Arthur shot.

"Don't I, Arthur? What's your plan to stop me? Your pathectic knights of Far Far Away? Perhaps your schoolmates and teachers? I have a battalion. _You_ have a ragtag gang," Lot said.

"I-I…" Arthur began, struggling to figure out a way to get Lot to stay here but coming up empty.

"If you won't stay, I won't go with you," Gawain spoke up, glaring at his father.

"Nor I," Gaheris stated, eyes narrowed at Lot. Loholt shifted uncomfortably then got out of the carriage, joining Gaheris and Gawain in glaring defiantly at his foster father.

"Emotional blackmail? Really?" Lot said, unimpressed.

"It's the only kind you'll listen to without fail," Gawain answered.

"Don't test me," Lot warned.

"I test you," Gawain stated calmly. Gaheris backed his brother with silence.

Lot shifted, glaring at his sons, then scowled darkly. He looked sharply back at Arthur like he blamed the defiance of his sons on him. Arthur winced but held his ground, frowning. Lot growled and turned to his boys. "Fine. I'll stay. But only if _you_ return home with your brother. All of you. With no argument." They tensed up. "See? I can do it too," Lot said, smirking coolly.

His sons were quiet, glaring at him. Gawain glanced at Arthur. Arthur nodded subtly for him to go. Gawain's jaw twitched and he looked at Lot once more. "Fine," he relented coldly.

"Do us a favor and don't die," Gaheris bitterly added, getting into the carriage, bringing Loholt with him. Gareth grimaced, looking like he wasn't going to follow at first, but then sighed and did so, entering last after all his other brothers.

Lot glared at the carriage. Quickly it was drawn away from that palace with a company of men to defend it. Lot watched after them then sighed, bowing his head and closing his eyes. He willed them to be safe… He looked to his men. "It seems we're going to be guests here for a little while. Rest up and be ready for onslaught come tomorrow," he said to them. They had all day and all night, at least, to prepare for whatever Caradoc and Turquine had in store. The men obeyed him immediately. The faculty and students entered the palace as well. They needed to figure out what they were going to do from here.

KAK

It was three in the morning when a figure slipped out of the palace quickly, escaping into the woods under the cover of darkness. Selices. He looked back at the castle as he went into the woods, then turned and continued on, finding his way back to the Dolorous Tower. Perhaps if he returned to his masters, they would forget about Agravaine and leave the boy alone. Perhaps they wouldn't even ride against Far Far Away after he came back! His newfound acquaintances had decided to stay and help, when Caradoc and Turquine came. He didn't want that. He didn't want them to be killed…

It wasn't long before he made it back to them. Back to that dark and forboding place. It was almost like he'd never left, the way the guards behaved. But they were always like that. Turquine and Caradoc would be another matter. He walked in and looked up the stairs. The brothers stood there, arms folded, and looked dakly down on him. They went into the tower room. He knew what was expected of him. He closed his eyes tightly. Part of him just wanted to turn and run away… But he couldn't… The lives of the only people who had been semi-kind to him for years now were at stake. He went up the steps, holding his head up…

In not long he knelt on his knees there, in the tower room, head bowed to them. They'd chained him to the walls, by his bands and collar, and stripped him of his covering. He was still, eyes closed. "So, the traitorous guardsman has returned. For what purpose?" Turquine asked.

"For the purpose of turning away your wrath from Far Far Away," Selices answered. "And from the boy you nearly killed… I return in his place, and I return to you in exchange for the peace of the kingdom."

Turquine chuckled darkly and reached out, tilting the young elf's chin up so the boy would face him. "You've done just as we expected you to," he said coldly. Selices blinked in confusion. "The stolen boy we wanted returned was never your conniving friend. It was _you_. We knew that in delivering the message to Lot, the boy would be assumed to be the one we wanted. But he never was. We wanted _you_. The young prince would have been a nice bonus, but you… You were beyond debate… We knew you would come back and offer yourself to us for him. Not even a battle needed."

"As if we would have been stupid enough to ride upon Far Far Away," Caradoc rumbled. "It was all a bluff, and you played your part perfectly. Your offering yourself for the kingdom was unexpected. You keep making the same mistake, little boy. You keep letting yourself believe you're cared for. No one gives a whit about the likes of you. Not your own kind, not motalkind, and _certainly_ not those quivering whelps that offended our tower. Do you think they give a damn what befalls you? Hah! You're dirt to them like you're dirt to everyone else. _This_ is where you belong. _This_ is where you're wanted."

Selices winced and closed his eyes, looking away. He was visibly struck by those words. Maybe… maybe they were right… They'd been right about the elves not wanting him anymore, after all. Perhaps they were right about this too… He didn't suppose it mattered, in the end. If they didn't care, they wouldn't come for him. If they cared, he wouldn't want them to ride on the tower to get him back anyway.

"Now, young elfling, you must be punished for your defiance," Turquine darkly said, drawing a hand though the elf's hair. Selices swallowed and braced himself for what was to come.

KAK

The next morning, Lot's battalion and the knights of Far Far Away were on the lookout for the army that was supposedly riding to invade them. The Worcestershire band as well was on the lookout, ready to fight if need be. When no army arrived by noon, they began to suspect it wouldn't come at all. When, come evening, no army had come, they knew for sure no army would. They retreated to the castle, but the knights of Far Far Away kept a lookout up anyway. Just to be safe.

"What a waste of a day," Lot complained, marching agitatedly into the dining hall. "We could have been riding to them ourselves!"

"Well now you don't have to. Your sons are safe. You can go home," Arthur replied, going to a throne at the head of a large dining table. Around the large table were several other smaller ones. The mismatched group took seats, waiting to be fed. Lot huffed, not answering. Arthur sighed and scanned the crowd. He frowned, after a moment, sitting up. Wait a second… "Hey, has anyone here seen Selices? You know, the elf?" he called out, noting the distinct absence of the fae. The others from Worcestershire Academy immediately sat up at this, starting to look around and murmur to each other about who may have seen him. The general consensus was he'd retired to a room to sleep. The last people to see him had been Dagonet and Lucan. Arthur, now concerned, sent Dagonet to check that room. Only moments later the jester ran back in, alarmed and holding a piece of parchment.

"Arthur, he's gone! He's gone back to the Dolorous Tower!" Dagonet exclaimed, waving the parchment in the air.

"What?!" Bors the Elder freaked, shooting to his feet. Arthur, mouth agape in shock, grabbed the note, quickly reading it through.

"What does it say?" Lancelot asked quickly.

"Oh son of a… 'No war will fall upon your kingdom, and the Northern King need not fear for the safety of his son anymore. Soon your debts will be settled. Thank you for the hospitality you showed'," Arthur read out loud.

"Does he seriously think we're just going to let him walk back into their clutches?!" Lancelot demanded.

"Apparently," Galihoden said, sounding unimpressed. "I don't know if he's stupid or just that kinky."

"He doesn't think anyone cares. He doesn't think his suffering matters to us," Brandelis spoke up a bit quietly, glaring furiously and frustratedly at the table.

"Why would he _think_ that?!" Pelleas demanded in alarm, eyes wide.

"Because he does!" Brandelis shot. "We didn't even _trust_ him when we saw him, let alone like him. He was some tagalong that happened to offer a helping hand! Apparently he wasn't too far off in his assumption given it took this long for anyone to even know he was missing. That's like Daniel levels of invisibility. Why should people who, until only recently thought he was an enemy, give a damn what befalls him? He went back to 'settle our debts' because he was the one who wouldn't be missed. The expendable, the outcast, the guy we have no reason to care about and no emotional attachment to. What does it matter to _us_ if he goes back to business as usual? Why should we even care? That's what he thought and that's why he left!"

"Hell no! That isn't happening. We're not letting him walk back to them and resume whatever the heck kind of life he had under those psychos Caradoc and Turquine!" Arthur said, shooting to his feet. "Anyone willing to volunteer, stick up your hand and you're in. We're getting the damn elf back first thing tomorrow no matter how small the number." Pretty well every student and teacher from Worcestershire stuck up their hands, looking blatantly unimpressed with this turn of events. "Good. Eat up, rest up, and get ready to ride."

"You need no volunteers. My men and I will ride _tonight_ ," Lot spoke up.

All eyes went to him. Arthur stared at the man in shock, flabbergasted. What now? "Uh… what?" Arthur said.

"He helped save my son?" Lot asked.

"He… was possibly the primary reason your son got out alive," Arthur more questioned than stated.

"Then I'll repay the favor," Lot said. He hadn't been blind to the getup that elfin boy had been wearing. It didn't take much to piece together the kind of life he'd probably had under Caradoc and Turquine. The only two possibilities were that it was his thing and he was all _for_ that sadomasochistic kind of action, or it was his thing because his masters _made_ it his thing. Heck, they might have conditioned him to be into it as it was, even of his own volition. That didn't matter right now, though. What mattered was getting him out.

"I'm coming with you," Bors said, rising. Lot raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't give me that look. You know why I have to be there." Lot grimaced. He knew alright.

"I can offer knights," Arthur said.

"Keep your pidly, pathetic wrecks away from my trained elite!" Lot shot.

"Okay, for one they aren't that bad, for two, screw you!" Arthur replied. "My soldiers aren't cowards, are you guys?" he said, looking to Far Far Away's knights. Said knights shifted awkwardly and immediately assumed various cowardly poses, from fetal positions to thumb sucking. Arthur gaped at them in disbelief. Oh he was _so_ screwed if the rebel kings rode on Far Far Away. Wait. A good number of them weren't backing down! He felt relief building up. "See? Those guys _there_ are up for it," he covered, pointing at the men who seemed like they had something of a backbone and the skill to go with it. Lot rolled his eyes but didn't argue the offered additions.

"We'll ride under you, milord, but not under him," one of those knights stated to Arthur, looking distastefully at Lot.

"Great! I'll come along," Arthur said.

"Oh no you will not!" Ector protested instantly.

"Dad, come on! I won't join the fighting, I promise. I'll stay back," Arthur pled.

" _I'll_ take care of him, Ector," Lot said, smirking darkly at Arthur.

"Uh, no, _I'll_ take care of him," Bors said, glaring warningly at the king of Lothian and Orkney.

"I'll take care of my own, thank you very much!" Ector said. He looked at Arthur. "If you go, I'm joining you."

"I'm not letting you two go out there without me!" Kay protested.

"Dammit Kay, yes you are!" Ector shot, slamming the table with his hand. "We'll be back soon enough. I'm just going to make sure Athur does what he claims and stays out of the fighting." Kay scowled but finally relented with an annoyed sigh, nodding in begrudging agreement.

"Suddenly so helpful, Lot," Galehaut remarked to Lot.

"Those bastards took my little boy!" Lot said, punching the table. "They took my little boy! They flogged him, beat him, stripped him, attempted to kill him, then dared to send me a message implying they would come after him again, so yes I'm being goddamn helpful!" Galehaut backed off, not inclined to push the stressed father further. Concerned parent, offended king, it wasn't going to be a pleasant combination for Caradoc and Turquine to face. "We move out as soon as we've eaten."

KAK

Lot's large battalion marched through the forest, banners high and armor clanging. Behind them walked the knights Arthur had provided. Behind _those_ rode Arthur, Bors, Lot, and Ector. Lot's expression was dark, the blazing torchlight reflected in his angry eyes. Somehow those eyes seemed to burn even more intensely than the fire they reflected. Arthur couldn't help but low-key marvel at it. Horns sounded loudly out as they closed the distance between the Dolorous Tower and Far Far Away. It was a long trip, hours of moving at a steady and quick clip if everything went right. It was late morning by the time the tower came into sight. Lot's men came to a halt, awaiting further orders. Lot rode to the front with Bors, Ector, and Arthur. He looked down on the tower. "I hope we're not too late," Ector said.

"We're too late," Bors said simply.

"To save his life?" Arthur asked in concern.

"They don't want him dead, Arthur. Ever," Bors replied. "We're too late to save him from a different sort of fate."

Arthur looked confused but then caught on, paling and looking quickly at the tower, eyes wide in uncertainty and empathy. "We have to hurry," he said a bit quickly. "The longer he's with them the more badly…"

"We know, son. We know. But we have to be smart about this," Ector cut off, placing a grounding hand on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur swallowed thickly, looking at the tower once more.

Lot scanned the force outside. Smaller than he would have expected. "We got rid of a lot of them," Arthur offered quietly. "Like a _lot_."

Lot nodded. If that was the case, the Dolorous army was weaker than he'd thought it would be. "If untrained squires and a handful of teachers took out a mass of them, let's see how well they fare against _seasoned_ warriors. "Men, to battle! Charge!" The army immediately raced down the hill, converging rapidly on the Dolorous tower. Knights poured from it to try and defend it and the groups clashed hard. Arthur galloped down the hill suddenly, ignoring his foster father's alarmed shout. He had his goal set. He galloped through the fighting men and reigned in his steed, leaping off it and running inside the tower without even a hesitation. Bors, Ector, and Lot were probably all right behind him. He was going to be in so much trouble after this, like _so_ much, but he needed to get to Selices!

As luck would have it, Caradoc and Turquine were on the stairs ready to meet him. "You sick, perverted, disgusting creeps! _Give_ me back my elf!" Arthur shouted at them furiously with a scowl, eyes glittering dangerously. Lot, Bors, and Ector he could sense behind him, so that gave him a boost of confidence too.

"You psychotic freaks, you really thought I wasn't going to come for you after what you did?!" Lot yelled at them. Lot and Arthur rammed against the duo viciously, both scowling up at their massive opponents.

Arthur yelped as he was suddenly dragged away from Turquine and replaced by Bors. He was spun around and caught his breath on meeting Ector's furious gaze. "D-dad, hi," he lamely said.

" _You_. You are in so much trouble you don't even know! You think you know the extent of my wrath? What you've seen will be _peanuts_ when I get you home!" Ector shouted at him, shaking him roughly and making Arthur gasp, staring at him with wide and frightened eyes. Oh he wasn't going to be able to sit for a month. He doubted the 'I'm a king' line would work this round. Or the 'I'm too old for that' one, for that matter.

"C-can we save Selices first?" Arthur asked, voice a bit high-pitched in his unease.

Ector scowled up towards Caradoc and Turquine, locked in battle with Lot and Bors. He growled lowly in his throat. "Go," he said, shoving Arthur forward. "Get your friend and get out as fast as you can." That said, the man raced to join Lot and Bors in battle agains the giants.

Arthur tore up the steps passed them all and straight to the tower room. He threw open the door, racing inside. He slid to a stop with a gasp on seeing Selices there chained to the wall, panting in exhaustion and agony. Shivering. His expression reflected pain and fear as he looked up with a frightened gasp. He was injured. Badly. Bleeding everywhere. "Arthur?" the elf asked, voice hoarse and breaking.

"Oh my gods!" Arthur exclaimed, racing to him. "Hold on, we're getting you out of here. We're getting you out and so help me if you ever come back here we're going to have major problems, man!"

"Y-you came for me?" Selices asked in disbelief.

"Hell yes," Arthur replied, trying to figure out the chains. "Help me out here already!"

"They have the key," Selices said, looking miserable.

"Can your claws do the job?" Arthur asked.

"You shouldn't be here," Selices said, voice becoming a whisper like he was going into shock or shutting down as some kind of a defense mechanism.

"Hey, hey, you stay with me!" Arthur shot.

"Claw, claws… They-they can… Yes. Yes, they might be able to help," the elf managed to say. Arthur immediately took one, carefully getting it off the elf's finger, and began prodding the lock with no idea what he was doing. He heard footsteps and turned quickly with a gasp, ready to fight if he had to. Instead, Bors came in with a set of keys. He threw them at Arthur, who quickly caught them and unlocked the chains with shaking hands. Selices collapsed to the ground weakly and lay still, body shuddering and shaking. He whimpered quietly and Arthur's heart twisted. He fell next to him in concern, slipping the claw back onto the elf's finger.

"Hey, hey you're okay now, okay? You're-you're okay," Arthur said, voice trembling a bit. Selices winced, just curling in on himself more. "Sir Bors, help!" Arthur begged, looking up at the teacher. He didn't know what to do, but King Bors might.

Bors watched quietly, then approached. He took off the cape he was wearing and draped it over the elfin youth, wrapping him up tightly in it to give him some modesty, security, and warmth. He picked the elf up in his arms. He didn't like how limp he hung there, or the fact his eyes were open and staring listelessly around like he was just waiting to be maneuvered however they pleased him to be maneuvered. Arthur hovered in concern, wavering between getting close or giving the guy space. Arthur looked worriedly for his father and brother-in-law. "Wh-where's my dad and Lot?"

"Turquine and Caradoc tried to run. Lot and Ector pursued them but they won't catch them. Don't fear. Soon enough they'll be back," Bors replied. "Worry for Selices, Arthur. Not for them. Ector and Lot can handle themselves, but right now we need to get Selices far, far from this place as soon as possible. I never want him to see it again for as long as he lives, if that's at all possible.

Arthur nodded in understanding and hurried to the horses. "Put him on mine," he said, bringing it over. Bors did so. Arthur could ride behind _him_.

"Get on the horse. I'm bringing you back to the castle. Both of you," Bors ordered.

"But-but my dad and Lot!" Arthur protested. The latter of which he shouldn't even be concerned about but was, if only for his nephews' and niece's sake.

"I told you, they'll be fine," Bors said. Arthur hesitated, then looked worriedly at Selices. He needed to be _here_ right now, he decided. He sighed and nodded, mounting the horse behind Bors. Quickly Bors galloped away, leading the horse Selices was on along behind.


	13. Everything is Okay

Everything is Okay

(A/N: Last chapter in Act 2. Act 3 will probably start being posted tomorrow or the next day. It may push M territory, though. Pretty dark subject matter, but then this has had pretty dark subject matter too, but Act 3 might be a bit more descriptive, so I'm warning you now about it.)

They got about half way back to the kingdom before Selices seemed to come out of his shock. He wordlessly adjusted himself on the horse, closing his eyes tightly and letting Bors lead it back to Far Far Away. There was silence. The elf was uninclined to talk, Arthur didn't know what to say, and Bors didn't even _try_ to find words right now. "You… you didn't… You shouldn't have…" Arthur began before trailing off.

"You're right. I walked right into their hands. They never planned to attack your kingdom… It was all a lie to make us think they wanted Agravaine. They wanted me. They knew I would come and because I am foolish and stupid I…" Selices began.

"You aren't foolish or stupid," Bors said. "You couldn't have suspected. No one did. All of us were convinced they would come. You tried to save lives and that is never a stupid thing." Selices was quiet, frustrated tears threatening his eyes. "Will you… consent to having your injuries tended by our physician, when we return?" Selices shifted uncomfortably. "If you don't want to be alone with him, you don't need to be. You can choose whoever you want to be with you." Selices nodded quietly.

"Hey, you're-you're going to be okay now, alright? You're going to be okay. We'll keep you safe. You're never going back there again if we have anything to say about it," Arthur said, visibly distressed at all of this.

Selices tensed up a bit before relaxing once more. "Safe?" he finally asked after a while, like the word was completely foreign to him.

"Yes. Safe. We'll protect you," Arthur said. Selices was quiet, unsure what to make of this or how to respond. He simply rode in silence, taking the words in and mulling them over.

KAK

The elf was overwhelmed at the relief and concern and support that greeted his arrival, the Worcestershire students and teachers all expressing their relief and worry for him. Some kind of harshly or accusatorily, but they were quickly told off by Bors for their careless remarks and fast to apologize and try and explain what they meant by their words. Selices fought back threatening tears desperately. He had been starved for comfort and tender, caring words for too long, Bors knew. Starved of reassurances and gentle touches that didn't bring harm with them. The elf probably couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt safe, or the last time he hadn't had to rely on only himself, or the last time he had been soothed instead of forced to self-soothe. He hungered to touch without fear of being hurt, hungered to _be_ touched kindly and tenderly rather than in some perverse or painful or sexual way. He was on the verge of breaking down when Petipace managed to steer him away, finally, from the crowds and into Caradoc's company.

The moment he was out of sight of the others, he broke down and all but buried himself against Petipace and Caradoc - not the evil one - both, trembling and letting himself just cry for the first time in gods knew how long. Petipace held him gently back while he wept against him, the man combing his fingers carefully through the elf's hair. Carados set to work tending the elfling's injuries as best he could, every so often giving him a soothing gestue or a soothing word if the elf seemed to start to get uncomfortable. Caradoc was visibly appalled and thoroughly sickened at the damage he was observing that had been done to the youth's body. The elfling seemed to be drawn to Petipace, which was good. It meant he'd imprinted on the man, and that would be a crucial step to recovering; his being able to hold onto something solid and tangible and firm and constant. He suspected the elf was drawn to the man because Petipace too was 'imperfect', like Selices believed _he_ was. The scars marring the man's body, the burns that covered his face… it wasn't hard to tell that Petipace also had been subject to horrible, horrible abuse. The elf had probably realized as much immediately. Petipace seemed good with the elf, and appeared quite taken by him, so that was even more a bonus if Petipace started nurturing some sort of protective or fatherly instinct or complex regarding Selices. Goodness knew the elfling would need the confidant in days to come. Petipace would not be the only one either, if Bors had his way and got that group he'd been talking about forming up and running.

When Carados finished up with Selices, he said, "You should get some rest, boy. Let yourself recover. There are many rooms in the palace. Arthur will give you whichever one you desire."

"Will he let me sleep in the garden?" Selices asked timidly.

"There's no reason why he shouldn't," Petipace replied. "Come. I will bring you to him to ask." Selices nodded, rising. He gave a grateful look to Carados, nodding at him, then left with Petipace. Arthur, of course, didn't even hesitate to grant the elf's request. The question hadn't even left his mouth before it had been answered in the affirmative. Petipace brought Selices out to the gardens and kept a quiet vigil over him as the elfling curled up among the flowers, beneath a weeping willow, and fell soundly asleep.

KAK

It wasn't long before Ector came back. Lot wasn't with him. Arthur was slightly concerned Lot had been killed, but Ector assured him that wasn't the case. Lot had ridden immediately for Orkney, planning to catch up to his sons and accompany them the rest of the way home. He wanted to be close to Agravaine, Caradoc and Turquine's threat still haunting the man. Arthur, finally finding some alone time with his father, breathed a heavy sigh as he stared down at the garden where Selices was sleeping with Petipace near at hand. "What a week," Arthur said to his foster father with a groan.

"Eventful, to say the least," Ector agreed. "You did well, Arthur; and not only in regards to the Game of Houses."

"Which was a total bust," Arthur said.

"We can arrange for it to happen later in the year," Ector replied. "Or perhaps hold off for next year instead. Goodness knows this adventure we've all had more than makes up for it. You boys all worked _spectacularly_ together. When you stop fighting among yourselves and work for a common goal, it's absolutely amazing what you accomplish. I've never seen anything like it in all my years!"

"Yeah right," Arthur replied.

"Arthur, I'm serious," Ector said.

Arthur looked a bit curious about this before grimacing and looking away once more. "When are we heading back to school?" he asked.

"As soon as you've all recovered," he answered. "And as soon as Selices has the mental and physical strength to." Arthur nodded quietly. Ector shifted and looked down. "King Bors is… thinking about starting a group. For young ones like Selices. Maybe even some older ones." Arthur grimaced, shifting a little uncomfortably. "I… think it would be a good idea." Arthur was quiet. "I need you to think about it, Arthur."

"I don't want to know," the young king said quietly.

"Know what?" Ector asked.

"I don't… I don't want to know who would come… I'm not sure how I'd face it."

Ector nodded. He understood. Arthur couldn't fathom how he'd react if one, or more than one, of his tormentors was there, which they would be. How could you even respond to something like that? "You don't have to decide now," Ector said. "But keep an open mind. Please." Arthur nodded quietly. "Come on. We should get back to the others. I think they deserve a little banquet for their hard work this week, don't you?"

"No," Arthur flatly said. "They'll all end up lobbing onto me for what I can give them then, like they did with Lancelot. No thanks, dad. I'm not into the false friends scene."

"Then set it up through your aunt, Arthur," Ector said with a sigh. "They need to be fed and put up either way."

"The inn," Arthur flatly said.

"Arthur Pendragon," Ector coldly warned.

Arthur grimaced and sighed. "Fine," he relented. They did deserve it for everything they'd done, after all. He couldn't deny that fact as much as he wanted to…

And as the students and faculty of Worcestershire sat together in the dining hall, laughing and animatedly chatting about all that had transpired, and cheering when Selices entered with Petipace, almost driving the elf to tears again, Arthur caught himself grinning and smiling as well, and engaging in excited talk with even people he never thought he would have. It was in that moment he began to realize that slowly he was growing attached to those he had once hated. And perhaps they to him as well…

KAK

It hadn't taken Lot long to catch up with his sons. That wasn't a good thing. Agravaine had taken a turn for the worse, and they'd needed to get him to a healer in a nearby town as quickly as possible. They'd managed to stabilize the boy once more, but the procession had been hesitant to go futher until the prince had had time to recover a little bit. It was in this town that Lot caught up to them. One of his men had been waiting for his arrival and given him the dismal news. He felt like the world had collapsed around him to hear the solemn words. He rode quickly to the inn where Agravain had been put up.

He went into his son's room quietly. The boy looked so small in the bed, huddled in on himself and in agony. He'd developed a high fever and so they had removed most of his clothing. The father saw plainly the deep, ugly wounds marring his child's flesh; the scars from the whips and the poorly healing, angry looking stabs. His heart clenched at the sight. He crossed to his child and sat on the bedside, drawing his fingers through the boy's hair. Agravaine whimpered, opening his eyes exhaustedly. "Papa, am I dying?" he asked, voice tiny and breaking. Lot wanted to deafen himself so he never had to hear a question like that again.

The king let out a shaking breath and crawled into the bed next to his son, pulling him close to comfort him, holding him against his body protectively. "Shh… You're alright," he said softly. He hated that he couldn't give a resounding 'no' in answer to that question. "I'm here now. You're going to get better, okay? I promise. You're not going to die. I won't let you die."

Agravaine trembled in his arms. "Arthur vowed to me a burial in Avalon," he remarked quietly.

"There'll be no burial!" Lot replied quickly, trying to keep his voice neutral and calm instead of sharp and afraid.

"Lamorak and Palamedes and Tristan will compose a song and sing… There will be Chrysanthimums, father. They'll be beautiful," Agravaine murmured, delirious. "There will be plumes and lights and music."

Lot fought back a sob desperately and only just barely managed to smother it so Agravaine wouldn't notice. "There'll be no funeral," he said again firmly. "There'll be no funeral…" He hated how his voice broke on that sentence… His child, only fourteen and just a month or so shy of fifteen, had been asked to make his own funeral arrangements…

"Everything's okay now?" Agravaine asked meekly.

"Everything's okay," Lot assured gently, stroking his son's hair. "It's okay," he repeated, pulling Agravaine close, resting the boy's head in the crook of his neck. Agravaine squirmed a little before settling there. Lot hated the feeling of his son going limp in his arms. He _hated_ not knowing if he would ever wake up again…

KAK

"You have six more," was the callous remark of one guest at the inn that night—when he'd gone out to get some air and food and drink—as if children were expendable. The man had been knocked unconscious for it, and Lot was now storming through the inn to go back to his distressed sons who he knew he should be there for. He couldn't get himself blackout drunk like he wanted to, he couldn't pass out and stay unconscious until all this was over, because he had five other boys waiting for him who desperately, desperately needed their father's comfort and reassurance right now, and a promise that their brother would be okay when Lot didn't know if he _would_ be. He didn't want to try and explain death to Mordred and Loholt. He got the feeling Mordred, at least, had a sense of it, but not a complete one. A child that age had trouble, generally, grasping concepts like that.

He went back upstairs to the upper draw room and walked in on Gawain, Gaheris, Gareth, Mordred, and Loholt all curled up together. Gawain cradled Mordred close as Gaheris kept Loholt near, playing a little game with him. He watched them quietly before revealing himself to them. His three oldest looked exhaustedly up at him. He came over, sitting beside Gareth and drawing a comforting hand through the boy's hair as he sat, which Gareth leaned into as he shut his eyes. Gareth... Nine months to the day younger than Agravaine, he knew. "How is your brother?" Lot asked them quietly.

"Uh, alive?" Gareth replied flatly. That was about _all_ that could be said. "Barely."

"Any signs of recovery?" Lot asked.

"No," Gawain answered. "He's sleeping a bit more soundly, so that's a slight improvement, but other than that? No."

"Tell us he's going to be okay," Gaheris quietly said.

Lot was silent, glaring spitefully at the ground like it was to blame for this. Soon, though, he looked up. "He'll be okay," he answered. He had to be.

"Did you kill them?" Mordred asked in a creepy monotone, staring into the fireplace. "You made them suffer, didn't you papa?"

"No. They escaped," Lot answered, frowning at Mordred's morbid word choice. No child that age should speak so casually of such things… Mordred gave him an unimpressed look. "Check your attitude," Lot warned seriously, frowning at the boy. "Caradoc and Turquine are not to be trifled with."

"You should have stalked them to the ends of the earth," Mordred said.

"To stalk someone, you need to know where they are," Loholt bit at Mordred, glaring at him coldly.

"You shouldn't have lost them," Mordred replied, looking back into the fire.

"It was best I did, or you may not have a father returning to you right now," Lot said.

"You're not my daddy," Mordred quickly and slightly snippily said. Lot let the remark wash over him. Mordred on occasion would get into moods such as this. The 'you aren't my father' line was nothing new to him. It still hurt, but he'd learned how to let it roll off him in most cases.

"You might not have had me coming back to you," Lot amended slightly coldly. Mordred's jaw twitched, and he shifted a bit uncomfortably at the thought of that.

"How isn't he our daddy?" Loholt demanded of his brother. Mordred was quiet.

 _...Because mommy says my daddy must die…_

"It's alright, Loholt," Lot said. The boy wasn't one to talk anyway. Every so often he too would have days when he pulled the 'because I'm not your son' line on him, by way of excuse for edging on playing the part of servant more than son.

"Dad? What if… What if Agravaine doesn't get up…?" Gareth asked a bit quietly.

Lot was quiet. "He will," he finally replied.

"But what _if_?" Gareth pressed.

"Don't entertain the thought, Gareth. He will," Lot said, rising and walking away to go to Agravaine's room. That was a conversation he wasn't in the mental place to have, at the moment, and if all went well he wouldn't _need_ to have it with them. Gareth winced, curling in on himself further.

"If he dies, Arthur has given him his word. If father agrees to it, we'll return his body there to be given the burial he was promised," Gawain said softly to his brothers. Lot heard it as he was leaving and flinched. Soon he was in Agravaine's room once more, and climbed into the bed next to his son, keeping him close so he could hear and feel any change at all in the boy's breathing… Or heartbeat…

KAK

It was probably around one in the morning when Lot heard the door to the room open. He opened an eye, warily watching in case it was a potential threat to his son. It wasn't. In slipped a little figure. Mordred, he recognized when the moonlight through the window caught a tuft of black hair. The little one approached the bed uncertainly. He stood beside it, looking up, and shifted. "Sir?" he asked after a moment, voice breaking and sounding watery.

Lot raise his head. "Mordred. What is it, little one?" he asked softly, patting the bed. He already had a guess. Nightmares weren't a rare occurrence for the boy.

Mordred sniffed and crawled on, crawling over to him. "I'm sorry I was so mean to you. I'm sorry I said you weren't my daddy," he said, sniffing and wiping his eyes.

"Shh, it's alright. I know," Lot replied, lifting the covers so Mordred could snuggle between him and Agravaine. The bed was getting crowded now, he dryly noted to himself, but he didn't care. Mordred climbed under them and snuggled tightly against him. Lot reached his arm over both the boys, pulling Agravaine closer again so now Mordred was smushed between them.

"Do you hate me when I say that?" Mordred asked.

"No, darling, no. I could never hate you," Lot gently soothed. "I'll always love you. No matter what you say."

Mordred nodded weepily and nuzzled him. "I dreamed Agravaine was dead… Then I dreamed you would leave me…"

"Agravaine will live, I promise… And I'll never leave you," Lot said.

"Why do you love me if I'm not your baby?" Mordred asked.

"You _are_ my baby," Lot answered. "You'll always be my baby."

"But I'm not yours," Mordred said.

"That doesn't matter one bit," Lot replied. "I love you anyway. Just as much as I love your brothers."

"But if you had to choose between them and me or Loholt…" Mordred began.

"I would give myself before I gave any of you," Lot answered.

"But then how can you always be there then?" Mordred asked.

"Trust me, darling. Maybe I won't be there forever, where you can touch me or hear me, but I'll still be there," Lot said gently.

Mordred nodded. "Papa, do you know who my real father is?" he asked suddenly. Quietly.

Lot was silent. Yes… Yes. He did. "I do," he answered.

"Who?" Mordred asked.

"That isn't something you need to worry about right now, Mordred. Maybe when you're older and you can understand better, but not right now. You deal with too much already, for such a little boy. You don't need that to be added to your burdens. Who your real father is, isn't important right now. You've gone this long without knowing. What's a little longer? The thing that's important is you and your happiness and safety, and I will do everything I can to give you all of that… In time you'll learn who your father was… But right now, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter."

"It matters to _me_ ," Mordred argued.

"I know it does, and I wish it didn't, but you'll learn the truth soon enough. Just not right now. Right now, let's focus on your brother, okay?" Lot said. Mordred shifted at the reminder of Agravaine. He nodded against his adoptive father, snuggling into his chest and getting comfortable between Lot and Agravaine. Soon he was fast asleep, his breathing even and deep and peaceful. Lot gently dropped a kiss on his head then went back to sleep as well.

KAK

 _"They drove us out, humiliated our armies, and in doing so made a fatal, fatal mistake."_

 _"We come to you now, Brian of the Isles, to call upon the pact we share, to back us in our warring against the boy king and all those who would be loyal to him."_

 _"...My son is among them, is he not?"_

 _"He is."_

 _"Good... I have missed his warm presence next to me... He will be as good a place to start as any. You have the assurance of my antagonistic behavior towards the high king and his little friends. And should antagonising become war, you have my backing then too... In fact I will go there to fetch my son, and I will make it very clear to them just who it is they have offended. Sirs Caradoc and Turquine, return to your Dolorous Tower. Dolorous Guard will be at your back come hell or high water."_

 _Dark laughter filled the halls of the ruined, dilapidated castle that sat situated high above a boiling lake of swirling lava... With a solitary rope bridge crossing it..._


	14. Brian of the Isles

_Act 3: Dolorous Guard_

Brian of the Isles

Our family ties were tight. Tight like you wouldn't believe, and even some of the biggest jerks in the group softened when they were brought into play. Family is forever… Of course given Lionel and Bors de Ganis's incident—a later story for a later time—you'd never guess it. But in the end it evened out… In the end Lionel died with hand firmly clamped in his sibling's in a show of brotherhood and forgiveness…

They say that it was not for Agravaine's sake that Gawain turned his back on his friendship with Lancelot, their unwitting killer, and went against him. For all his other brothers—say for Mordred who survived—and for his sons, yes, but not for Agravaine… They say he didn't care for Agravaine. That none of us did.

That. Is a load. Of bull.

Gawain _wept_ for Agravaine. Just as he wept for Gareth and Gaheris and Gingalain and Lovell and Florence, he wept for Agravaine. He wept for him every bit as much as for any of the others. Anyone who says differently I will have executed. Or would if I could, rather. He _wept_ for Agravaine… He loved his brothers so much… And his sons even more… He took after his father in that…

Past

 _"Lot's Knights patrol Dolorous Tower waiting for our return, dammit! We cannot go back."_

 _"Lot... Damn the man. He made himself my enemy long ago. You and your brother remain here in Dolorous Guard, Sir Turquine, and let me do the rest. I am going to fetch my son from them. They have no choice but to give him up to me. When we return you will have some entertainment for yourselves, and in fact if all goes well I'll bring you another prize too. One of my enemy's most precious possessions to play with. A possession he will come after in force. He will pull his men from your tower to ride on Dolorous Guard, but they will fail. You will be free to return to Dolorous Tower at that time, while Lot rages against me to regain the precious thing I steal from him."_

 _"Mmm, your 'son'… He is truly a delight."_

 _"And he will be yours and your brother's soon enough. But spare me the details."_

KAK

Lot sat in the carriage, Agravaine's head resting on his lap as the boy lay there in misery hating how sick and in pain he felt. Presumably telling himself over and over how stupid he'd been to throw himself to the dogs like that for a stranger. They were travelling back to Far Far Away. Agravaine wouldn't be able to handle the lengthy journey to Orkney in this state. He'd be lucky to make Lothian. Far Far Away, where Caradoc Briefbas was, was his son's best chance. Carados was the best there was. Agravaine shifted uncomfortably. "Agravaine," his father warned.

"It hurts," Agravaine said in an almost-whine.

"Yes, being run through twice with super-heated blades does tend to sting a bit," Lot said.

"So _you're_ where Gareth gets it from," Agravaine grumbled in complaint. Lot smirked. Agravaine sighed, closing his eyes again and focusing on his father's soothing touch, the man's fingers gently running through his hair. Upon waking up in his father's arms with Mordred smushed between them, he'd been mortified. Until he realized how comforting it felt and decided he didn't even care how embarrassing it would have been in any other situation. He'd promptly taken to letting his father tend him like the prince he was. The stabbed, half-dead prince he was. He grimaced at that thought and winced in pain. He wasn't sure whether it was phantom or real. It was getting hard to tell. He thought phantom pain was only supposed to happen with lost limbs or appendages. He considered saying that the pain was killing him, but that probably wouldn't go over well given his current situation. Lot would be unimpressed. So would his brothers. It really did feel like it was killing him, though. He shifted more.

"Do you need salve again?" Lot asked. Agravaine thought about protesting and playing it tough, but he really didn't feel tough right now.

"Yeah," he answered a bit meekly. Gawain handed over the salves to Lot. Lot took them and pulled up Agravaine's tunic before starting to apply the pain killer to the injuries. His blood boiled to see the whip marks decorating his child's body. They'd flogged his little boy… They'd flogged his little boy! He'd had a good long rant about that, believe you him. "How long before I can go back to school?" Agravaine tentatively, and almost timidly, asked.

"Never," Lot flatly replied.

"Daaad, be reasonable!" Agravaine whined.

"I am," he dryly said. He sighed as he finished applying the salves. "Not for a couple of weeks. I want to be very, very sure you're alright and that nothing like this is going to happen again."

"But _we_ get to go back, right?" Gawain asked hopefully.

"Were you stabbed or impaled?" Lot asked.

"He got almost crushed by a boulder," Loholt piped up. Gawain winced and gave his adopted sibling a dirty scowl.

Lot paused, blinking blankly at this. His eyes narrowed as he turned to Gawain. "Oh?" he said. "Go on, Loholt." Loholt by now, though, had realized he'd messed up and had gone pale and tight-lipped.

"I, uh… I'm walking!" Gawain said. "I barely feel it anymore."

"Tunic up, turn around," Lot ordered. There was no room for argument. Gawain winced and sighed, obeying. He lifted his tunic and turned his back to his father. Lot's silence wasn't reassuring. Nor was the low growl he heard in his father's throat.

"Um, i-is it that bad?" Gawain asked, wincing. He'd never actually looked at it.

"I'm going to have Pellinore's head on a pike," Lot icily stated. "And Ector's. And Meliot's. They failed to do their jobs. Is anyone _else_ hiding particularly ugly injuries from me now?" Gawain grimaced, lowering his shirt. None of the others spoke up. "Is your silence a lie or the truth?" Lot asked. No one commented, not about to let him know that Mordred had almost died in quicksand. "One week before the rest of you get to go back," Lot said. "And before you do, I'm going to be having a long chat with your principal along with your mother. I've sent for her, letting her know what's happened. Given her mystic prowess she'll probably show up not long after we arrive back in Far Far Away." Considering she intended to come at all, he inwardly added. The brothers exchanged grimaces.

"What's mom going to care? All Anna will be worried about is her precious little golden boy," Agravaine complained. Said golden boy being Mordred, in case that wasn't obvious. Mordred stuck out his tongue at his sibling defiantly.

Lot rolled his eyes. "I know it doesn't always seem like it, but your mother loves you," he said. Truth be told, though, he wasn't sure how much even _he_ believed that anymore… He wanted to, he wanted to so badly, but he just didn't know…

KAK

Lot watched as Far Far Away came back into sight. He hoped Anna would be there waiting… As the castle came into view he looked up a bit hopefully. He wasn't the only one. His sons looked too. Lot breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her waiting there with Soredamer, wringing her hands together and looking genuinely concerned. Of course she was generally pretty good at faking things—no, he wasn't alluding to intimate climaxes. Those were about the only things she _couldn't_ fake he was more than a little proud to boast—but Lot chose to be optimistic. The carriage pulled up and her sons climbed out one by one. They approached her, looking hopeful. Lot carried a sulking Agravaine in his arms towards his wife and daughter.

Soredamer gasped, covering her mouth. "Agravaine!" she cried out, running to her father and worriedly starting to fret over her brother.

Meanwhile, Morgause's eyes scanned for Mordred, barely sparing the others a look. She bent down when he came. "Sweetie, are you alright?" Anna asked in concern.

Mordred frowned a bit, looking unimpressed with her. "I'm not your baby that's hurt, mama," he snidely replied, taking her aback. She frowned a bit at this and looked up. Her sons looked less than impressed and her husband looked outraged, scowling darkly at her like he was ready to bite off her head.

She rose and stared at Agravaine quietly. Agravaine who glared at her, hurt in his eyes. She shifted slightly and approached him. Her gaze seemed to soften into something that might have been concern, but it was hard to tell what was real and what wasn't. "Oh my darling…" she softly murmured, observing his injuries.

"Don't go out of your way to pretend you care for me, mom," Agravaine bit. "Go fawn over Mordred."

"Mordred isn't the one who's hurt," Anna replied, examining her son carefully. Soon she looked at Lot. "Who did this to him?"

Lot scowled, hating to remember the names. "Caradoc and Turquine. Of the Dolorous Tower," he said.

Anna started. "What?" she said, a hint of coldness and unease in her tone. "The giants?"

"The who?" Soredamer asked.

"We'll fill you in later," Gaheris said.

Anna looked at Agravaine. Again, the concern… With it fear this time too… "Baby?" she softly said. He looked at her warily but hopefully. _That_ wasn't a tone he heard often. It almost sounded… genuine. Maybe it was? "Those men; did they… did they put their hands on you in… in a way that wasn't alright?" Soredamer paled at the question, not sure she wanted to know why it had been the first one to come up. Agravaine almost crumbed. It was real. The concern was real… Or if it wasn't, it was good enough.

"No," he replied, voice breaking a bit as he shook his head. Morgause nodded, gently drawing her fingers through his hair. He leaned longingly into the touch. It was so rare…

"Bring him to the parlour. I can tend him there," Anna murmured to Lot. Lot nodded. She pressed a kiss to her husband's lips and moved to usher the rest of the boys, and her daughter, inside while Lot settled Agravaine in. Truth be told, she was ecstatic her husband had sent for her to come to Far Far Away, Agravaine notwithstanding. In a heartbeat she'd leapt on the opportunity. The closer in proximity she was to her brother, after all, the better she could plan his demise…

KAK

Meanwhile, in the palace things were a bustle of activity. Morholt focused his attentions on getting Stephen acquainted with what to expect when they returned to Worcestershire, a sort of half-orientation. Bors and Petipace began the slow process of attempting to integrate Selices with the others. They couldn't give the elf too much at once. If they did, it would overwhelm him and that would do him little good. He stayed out of sight, for now, mostly with Petipace who knew how to slowly assimilate him in with others. The man had had to do it for himself alone, figure out how to reintroduce himself to society and a normal life. It had been slow and painful and agonizing and he was still doing it to this day albeit with a bit more help now. Needless to say, he didn't want that for Selices, and so he'd make sure it didn't happen. _He'd_ had no one, so he would be damn sure _Selices_ did. Preferably him and Bors both. He wouldn't let the elfin boy do this alone.

It was to Bors' dismay that the elfling chose to keep his riskque apparel. The councillor didn't think it was healthy or good for Selices to do so, but when confronted Selices had given an answer that had left Bors without words to say.

 _For years I've been forced to wear these bands and chains… I keep them now because I_ _ **choose**_ _to. Not because someone makes me, but because I_ _ **choose**_ _… I'm in control again… They're a reminder of that time, yes. Just as much as they're a reminder that it's over. Now I make my own decisions… I want to remember. I want to prove to them I am free. They don't govern me anymore. If I wear this, it is because I wanted to, not because they made me._

Bors couln't claim to fully understand, but he got the gist. It was a way for the elf to thumb his nose at Caradoc and Turquine, assumedly. A boast to them that they couldn't touch or control him this time. It was something of that ilk, at least. He'd let the matter go for now. More pressing things were happening. Namely a blatantly threatening letter from Lot saying he was coming back because Agravaine wouldn't make the trip home in his current state, and that he planned to tear them a new one for their failure to protect his sons. Not in those exact words, it was more tactful than that, but the unspoken f-you was plastered all over the page. Pellinore was on edge, to say the least. In fact, Bors suspected the man was subtly getting his affairs in order just in case. The councillor sighed. Maybe he should do the same, he dryly noted to himself. It wasn't going to be a fun time, when Lot came to play, so they had to brace for it.

KAK

The tension permeated the air the second Lot set foot in the castle with Morgause. Arthur locked himself quickly away in his room and wouldn't come out for anything or anyone. Gawain supposed his uncle couldn't be blamed for that. Lot and Anna's arrival was only the latest in a long line of horrible experiences for the young king today. Only a few hours prior, there had been a particularly bad scene with Lancelot that had left Arthur feeling worthless and useless; a funk he wouldn't get out for a good long time if ever. Yeah, the details were best left unexplored. It had been really, really bad. Gawain had heard and seen what that creep Lancelot had said and done to his uncle. Suffice it to say, it had led to Arthur collapsing to his knees and publically weeping, adding to the young king's humiliation, which had sparked outrage and a miniature civil war between all of them before they'd separated from one another in disgust.

Gawain frowned to himself. He was worried about Artie and something ticked at Lancelot for what he'd done. To Lance's credit, though, upon seeing Arthur's reaction to his bullying he'd backed down instantly. Gawain had never seen his friend move that quickly away from _anything_ before. He had no doubts it was guilt, but too little too late. The damage had been done. Arthur had been left alone to sob, the mocking whispers of observers echoing all around him, which the young king had doubtless heard. Gawain grimaced, looking down and closing his eyes tightly. He should have gone to Arthur _then_. He didn't know why he hadn't… He would be sure to rectify that now, while his dad tore into Pellinore and co. Seriously, the shouting match between Lot and the faculty began the second the door to the war room was shut behind them. It could currently be heard clear through the castle, or so it seemed. Gawain and his siblings had awkwardly slipped away.

While his brothers and sister went off to do whatever it was they did, _Gawain_ had gone immediately to find Arthur who, as established, wasn't going to open that door for anyone or anything. At least according to Dagonet, who'd tried to get Arthur to open to him for a good long time before giving up. Gawain, though, was even more persistent than the jester, and twice as insistent. Finally, Arthur relented with a disgusted scoff, allowing his nephew's presence in his room just to shut him up.

Gawain didn't speak. He gave Arthur space and just sat reading while Arthur brooded and hid away. Arthur was glad his… friend wasn't pressing for conversation. Maybe Gawain felt like _he_ needed to hide too. Arthur watched him quietly. "Is Agravaine okay?" the young king finally asked.

Gawain hesitated, wincing a little. "No," he answered finally and quietly.

Arthur was silent. "Is he going to make it?" he asked, tone sounding more concerned than he'd thought it would have.

"He's… breathing and getting better, so I hope so. It's slow, though. I'm pretty sure he'll be alright. He's really agitated and restless having to lay around and do nothing while he heals, so he's kind of driving your servants crazy. Dad's low-key afraid they're going to plot Agravaine's assassination, but Merlin showed up randomly a while ago for some reason, just out of nowhere, and declared he'd babysit. Lot can't stand the guy, but Agravaine was honestly driving dad a bit crazy too so he figured it was about time my brother got a dose of his own medicine. Who better to give it than Merlin? Seriously, where does that guy go and how does he get around like he does?"

"The guy's a wizard," Arthur replied, shrugging.

"He's not _that_ great of one," Gawain said. Though at times he had to wonder. "Hey, you going back to Worcestershire with us?"

"Yeah. Though I'm tempted not to. I'm supposed to be on my throne ruling, not travelling to Worcestershire and staying in a house most of my time. I'm the sitting king, after all," Arthur replied.

"Sorry about dad's crack about you not even being able to sit on your own throne," Gawain said. Lancelot had sure played off of it like no one's business.

Arthur was quiet, looking down. "He was right, though," he said after a moment.

"Don't let him get to you, Arthur," Gawain said. "He's just… I don't know." He had no clue why his father hated Arthur and was technically at war with him. What was going on right now, this moment of peace, was a special case because Agravaine and all, but make no mistake they were definitely still at war. Arthur nodded but didn't speak. "Hey, I'm thinking of going out hunting either today or tomorrow. You want to come along?" Gawain asked.

"Gawain, I'm really, really not in the mood to do much of anything right now," Arthur said hollowly.

Gawain's expression softened and again he inwardly cursed Lancelot. "Locking yourself away isn't going to help you, you know," he said.

Arthur shrugged, head hung. "Maybe next time," he said.

Gawain was quiet, watching him. "I'm, uh… I'm sorry… About what Lancelot did and said…" Arthur winced and didn't comment. "I guess I'll meet up with you after I get back from hunting. Then maybe we can do something together. Possibly with some of the others."

"Yeah, maybe," Arthur said with a sigh. "We'll see. Good luck hunting. Have fun. Who are you going with?"

"I'm going alone," Gawain replied.

Arthur frowned. "That doesn't seem safe," he said.

"You're taking after Safir I see," Gawain teased. "I'll be fine, don't worry. I can take care of myself." Arthur grimaced but said nothing. Just then a loud horn sounded out, foreign and unfamiliar. Arthur and Gawain both frowned and went quickly to Arthur's window, looking down. They gasped at what they saw. Riding into the courtyard came a large company of men under an unfamiliar but menacing looking flag.

"Who the heck is that?" Arthur asked.

"I-I don't know… It looks familiar. In only bad ways," Gawain replied.

A frantic knocking sounded on the door, just then. Arthur turned quickly. "Uh, who is it?" he asked.

"Arthur? Arthur it's me, Bedivere," Bedivere's urgent and slightly scared voice replied. Arthur and Gawain exchanged looks before quickly going to the door and opening it up to him.

"What's up?" Arthur asked.

"That-that flag, the-the company that just marched in… Arthur, it's-it's Brian of the Isles. I just… What if he's come for me and my brother…?" Bedivere asked.

Arthur stiffened, a chill running up his spine. He blinked then frowned. "Then he's not getting you," he firmly said. Quickly he left his room with Gawain. Bedivere followed them down worriedly.

KAK

Arthur hurried into the courtyard and came to a stop, looking back on both his left and right side. It seemed he'd gathered a following. Namely almost every student and teacher who was here from Worcestershire. He looked ahead again towards the entrance to the courtyard as the imposing company rode in and lined up against the walls. Arthur swallowed. Soon their leader came through, riding high on a massive black horse that looked ready for war. Arthur realized, about that time, that he should probably be seated on his throne instead of meeting the guy in the courtyard, but he stood his ground.

Dagonet tilted his head curiously. "Hey, that flag. Isn't that…?" he began

"Brian of the Isles," Bedivere finished for him, visibly pale. Lucan stared at the man and his company fearfully. Bedivere was quick to put himself between the approaching procession and his family and friends, planting himself right at Arthur's back. Four armored men rode in after their leader on horses.

"Who are they here for?" Dagonet asked in a whisper, eyes narrowed coldly at the man.

"No idea," Griflet replied. "Anyone else know?"

"Sir, he has a child that goes to Worcestershire Academy sir," Degore said, tone dark and icy as he glared.

"What?" Griflet asked, looking at Degore quickly.

"How do you know this?!" Bedivere demanded.

"Marshal, I overheard four of the teachers talking about it; Pellinore, Bagdemagus, Petipace, and Bors. Petipace was confronting them about it, sir! They argued then came to a neutral ground and began discussing whether there was a way they could keep Brian from taking his child away from the school again, sir," Degore replied.

"Well was there?!" Bedivere asked.

Degore was quiet, jaw twitching slightly. "Sir no sir," he finally replied. Bedivere quickly looked towards Brian again. That psycho had a kid? Which one of them, he wondered in dread. Lucan looked pale and slightly sick at the idea of it. He pitied whoever was that man's flesh and blood. Brian, meanwhile, took no small interest in scrutinizing every student standing there to meet him…

"I'll bet that sicko is loving every second of this," Dinadan bitterly said. The man's eyes roamed over each of them darkly from head to toe. "He's eying us up like sweets."

"Filth. He's filth," Lucan replied in a murmur. "Just like Caradoc and Turquine." He glanced at the king Caradoc. "Not you of course sir." Carados blinked then gave Lucan an unimpressed glare which Lucan pretended not to notice.

Soon Brian rode ahead a bit before coming to a stop. Arthur swallowed again and frowned. "Sir Brian, you sent no message you were coming," he called out.

"Perhaps your butler isn't as efficient as he _should_ be. If he is falling short, I would be glad to take him off your hands," Brian replied.

Arthur bit back the urge to tell him to screw himself. "You aren't getting them. Any of them. Now state your business and be gone. You aren't welcome in Far Far Away," he said, and the boy king was honestly surprised at his _own_ words and how boldly they were coming out.

"I won't be long. I've just come for my son," he said.

"Your… wait, what?" Arthur said, totally taken aback by this statement. Brian smirked coldly at him and Arthur felt himself bristling. "What son?" he asked warily.

Brian chuckled, scanning the boys. "Brandelis," he called out softly. "Come here, treasure." Arthur's eyes widened in shock, his whole body going rigid. _What_? Ooh… That explained more than he was comfortable with. Not least among them the way Brandelis and Agravaine had ended up stringing up Hoel and Segwarides… And why it had ended up being so disturbing and degrading…

Sir Meliot, not far from Brandelis' side, gasped, paling and looking suddenly sick to the stomach, head whipping in Bran's direction and eyes wide in horrified disbelief. "Wh-what?" he said to the boy. Bran was silent, giving him a fearful and uncertain look before quickly looking away again, hanging his head low. "Brandelis talk to me!" Meliot hissed sharply, taking his arm. Brandelis looked quickly up at him, a bit surprised at the action and the vehemence in the teacher's words. Ultimately, though, he remained silent. Meliot, pale, turned quickly to Brian of the Isles once again, eyes distraught and conflicted and confused.

KAK

Up in a high window, sitting on the sill, was Selices, pale as he looked down on the courtyard. "What is it, Selices?" Petipace asked, noticing how palid the elf was and noticing the shivering. "That-that flag," Selices said in a whisper.

Petipace frowned and came over, looking down. He grimaced upon seeing it. "That is the flag of Dolorous Guard," he said. Which meant Brian of the Isles… Dammit… The man was a close ally of Caradoc and Turquine, he knew, and every bit as perverse though in a different way than Turquine's perversion. "You're safe," he murmured reassuringly to the elf. "He won't put his hands on you. It isn't for you he's come anyway." Selices looked questioningly at Petipace. Petipace winced. "He… has a child who goes to Worcestershire. A son… One of the boys who helped save you… Selices' eyes widned in something between horror and disbelief. "Brandelis," Petipace elaborated.

Selices swallowed thickly and turned back to the window, looking nervous and afraid now for Brandelis. "Can't… can't you keep that man from taking him away…?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

Petipace was quiet. "If they could have, they would have," he finally answered.

"Brandelis can't go with him. He can't!" Selices said.

Petipace shook his head. "They've tried to stop it, at least the few teachers who know. It's been all for nothing. They're powerless," he said. "A bargain was made, once. A contract… One that can't be backed out of so easily…" Selices, pale, looked back down at the courtyard. He stared a moment then suddenly got off the sill and raced down to join the others. Petipace followed him quickly and worriedly, and the two hurried out into the group, pushing through the others to reach Brandelis. They found him hiding behind Galihoden fearfully. Selices subtly moved in front of him too, nodding at him reassuringly. Petipace stood at his back. Brandelis seemed to start to breathe a little bit easier at their added presence.

KAK

Arthur stared in dead silence at Brian. _No_ one spoke, in fact, and they hardly moved either. "Sorry. No Brandelis here," he finally answered.

"Don't mock me, boy," Brian warned. "He's here. I know he is. And you're going to give him to me."

"There's no Brandelis here," Arthur firmly repeated, eyes narrowed.

"If you stand in my way, you'll regret it," Brian warned. "Word has reached me of your battle against Caradoc and Turquine. You know they are my allies, don't you? I am their close personal friend and am, of course, obliged to aid them in any battle against you they should choose to wager. And they in turn will do the same for me, if you catch my meaning." He looked over the men and boys at Arthur's back. "Is this your army, 'King' Arthur? This paltry little force? Is this the best you have to offer?"

"I have allies too, make no mistake," Arthur said. "There's no Brandelis here." Brandelis, meanwhile, listened in shock, lips parted in awe as Arthur, a guy he tormented _regularly_ , protected him instead of throwing him to the dogs and actually stood his ground, expression hard and dark. He wasn't going to back down, not in this, and Bran was far from the only one here awed by the display.

"The company I've brought will raze you and yours to the ground before the rest of your knights have a chance to assemble," Brian threatened. "Don't test me, little boy."

"Try it. I dare you," Arthur replied, clenching his fists.

Brandelis shook his head, let out a shaking breath, then quickly came out of hiding despite Selices and Petipace both reaching to grab him and hold him back. "Wait!" he called, pushing quickly to the front and coming up alongside Arthur, who winced at this turn of events. Brandelis looked at the young king defeatedly. "No. Not for me, Arthur. Not for me," he said in a murmur. "Don't take this risk for me."

Arthur looked shocked, then uneasy, then concerned. "I'm not letting him take you," he whispered back.

"Then let me go to him willingly," Brandelis replied. "This? This isn't a risk you can take. Not right now. Please… I'll be okay… He's my dad."

"Bran, you can't…" Arthur began. Before he could finish, though, Bran pulled away and cautiously, warily, approached Brian. The man smiled a smile that would have perhaps seemed innocent and kind to any other eyes, but they knew better… Selices shuddered and felt his stomach churn when the man got Brandelis up in front of him on his horse. If it had been _any_ other man, _any_ other father, then it would have been innocence. But it wasn't any other parent. It was Brian of the Isles, and the implications of this action were far from innocent when it came to him… Helplessly they all watched as the man spirited their schoolmate away from the castle, leading all his company with him…

"Come on. Inside, all of you. We can't… we'll fix this. Somehow," Pellinore spoke up. Hesitantly, helplessly, the students began to slowly head back inside, most of them wanting to ride immediately after their comrade but unable to.

Gawain glared darkly after the man. A little fearfully as well… His heart clenched in his chest. He grimaced, wincing and looking away from the scene, swallowing and breaking into a cold sweat. He had crossed Brian before once, some years ago. He remembered it so clearly now. It was branded into his brain, a scar that would never heal.

When Lot had gotten a hold of Arthur, and he and Bran had ridden to try and bagain with Lot for the young king, Brandelis had been captured. Lot had refused to let Arthur go so they'd gone with plan B, breaking him out, which resulted in said capture. That day, in an attempt to get his father to let Bran go free, the crown prince had told his father that he owed the other boy his honor and his life. He'd been referencing his first run in with Brian… He'd gone off to hunt in the fields without anyone knowing what he was doing or really caring because hey, he could take care of himself, right? Wrong. At least not against Brian of the Isles, but back then Gawain hadn't known what he was getting himself into…


	15. The Past

The Past

(A/N: Agonized a few days about how to present this chapter. Initial plan was to throw in the Lancelot-Grail/Vulgate story with Dolorous Guard, then I couldn't find it so I came up with something else, then I found it and tried to figure out if I could fit it in, but too many problems and inconsistencies kept creeping up though, and I tried to get it to fit but couldn't - might have been able to but didn't have the motivation to strain myself trying, though it may change in later editions of this story - so I kept it as was, more or less. The Story in the Lancelot-Grail/Vulgate story will probably come later. Enjoy.)

 _Some Years Ago_

A preteen Gawain shot at a rabbit with his bow and arrows and easily brought it down. He smirked to himself, dismounted his horse, and went to gather it up. He bled it then tucked it away in the sack he'd brought along for the game he caught. He looked up at the sky. It was still early morning. The roosters from the distant farms had only just begun to crow. He liked the early mornings. They were peaceful. Gawain rose to head back. His parents would start to worry soon. "How fares the hunting, stranger?" a voice questioned just then.

Gawain turned curiously to see a man on a horse smiling pleasantly at him. "It's okay I guess," Gawain answered. He was wary, but the man _seemed_ nice at least.

"Good. This is my first hunt in this area. Are there any particularly good spots to begin?" the man questioned.

"Um, around here is good?" Gawain answered. "Wh-who are you?"

"Forgive me, little one. My name is Brian of the Isles," the man answered, bowing. "I reside in Dolorous Guard."

"Dolorous Guard? You aren't friends with the Dolorous Tower, are you?" Gawain asked, bristling a bit nervously. Everyone knew of the giants—or so it was said—who lived in the Dolorous Tower.

"I'm in the same district, but no. It's a very big district and I have no affiliation with the men who reside in the Dolorous Tower," this 'Brian of the Isles' answered.

"Oh," Gawain said, relaxing a little.

"Where are your parents, boy?" the man questioned.

"They're not here," Gawain answered.

"Really? Are you an orphan?" the man asked.

Gawain shifted. "No. Mama and papa are the crown prince and princess of Orkney, and papa is captain of the Duloq guard too," Gawain answered.

"Lot and Morgause? Really… A young prince, then. Are you alone out here?" Brian asked. "That hardly seems like it would be acceptable for a little prince."

"Well, I guess, but-but I've been out here alone before. I can handle myself," Gawain answered, frowning at the man, slightly insulted at the apparent lack of faith in his abilities.

"I see… Very bad things can happen to little boys all alone in the woods," Brian said.

Gawain stiffened. He blinked at the man and rose guardedly. He had noticed the change in tone immediately, and suddenly the stranger's amiable façade became something much darker. Almost threatening. "I suppose," the young prince answered. "So, I guess I should go then." He picked up his bag of game and cautiously returned to his horse, not taking his eyes off Brian. He hesitated to get on the steed because that would mean looking away from the man, but eventually he would have to look away anyway. Still, he got a bad feeling about this. He turned to his horse and prepared to mount. Suddenly Brian whipped his steed into action! Gawain hardly had time to gasp and go for his sword before the man was there. Brian struck a vicious blow to his head, and Gawain cried out, collapsing unconscious onto the ground…

Brian nimbly leapt off his horse and sent Gawain's running. He rolled the young one over and examined him. He smirked sickly and gently stroked his face. "Such a pretty little boy," he cooed to the unconscious child, rubbing Gawain's inner thigh. "My friends will have their fun with you soon enough," he declared before picking up the preteen and slinging him over his own horse. Mounting behind, he galloped back towards Dolorous Guard…

KAK

Gawain awakened with a soft groan, eyes fluttering open to the sound of birds singing in the trees and a stream running nearby. He frowned in confusion. This-this didn't make sense. Hadn't he just been attacked and kidnapped? He tried to move but heard chains rattling before catching, keeping him down. He gasped, paling, and quickly looked back. his breathing began to speed up as he he started to struggle against the shackles binding him to the base of a tree, keeping him right where he was. He tried to move his legs, and though he could, he realized quickly his ankles had been bound so it would do little good. He bit back the urge to cry out for help, because though the man who'd kidnappd him wasn't here, his horse was. That implied he wasn't far and would soon come back. He'd come back faster if he heard his prisoner crying out for help. Gawain was on his own in this. He needed to save himself because no one else was here to. The more he fought, though, the more he started to realize with a chill that he couldn't. He couldn't escape. He couldn't get away!

He heard footsteps approaching and gasped in fear, quickly looking over. He started, though, on seeing whose footsteps they were. Approaching, carrying four waterskins, was a little boy about his own age who looked defeated and weak. The boy looked at him woefully and gasped on seeing he was awake, almost dropping the skins but managing to catch them before they fell. "Hey, hey you need to go! You need to run away. A bad man is here, and he took me and if he comes back he's going to take you too and you need to run right now, hurry! Go back to your family or run to Duloq or find a way to get there and tell the Captain of the Guard you found his son Gawain. Tell him that son was taken by Brian of the Isles, please! Get out of here before he comes back and hurts you too!"

The boy was silent, suddenly looking exhausted. "He's hurt you?" he asked quietly after a moment.

"He knocked me out and took me captive. Yeah, he's hurt me," Gawain replied like it was obvious.

"But no other way? He hasn't introduced you to his friends?" the boy asked.

"Huh? Wh-what do you mean?" Gawain asked, looking a bit nervous now.

The other boy was quiet. After a moment he put down the skins and approached, kneeling next to Gawain and examining him quietly. "Brian of the Isles is my father… I'm sorry he took you away, but… but I can't help you. I just can't," he said.

Gawain was quiet, staring at the boy in disbelief. "Y-yes you can," he replied fearfully. "You can! You have to! I don't wanna go, I don't wanna be hurt or taken away! Just-just cut the ropes on my ankles and-and find the key to the chains or something and I can go! I can escape and then-then you can pretend you didn't do it by hiding then coming out after your papa comes back. Please! P-please…" The boy was quiet, head hung sadly and ashamedly. Gawain felt tears of despair burning his eyes, his lips parted. Soon he shut them and swallowed. "Wh-what's going to happen to me?" he asked, voice breaking a bit as he began to shiver a little. The other boy winced, clenching his teeth, but was quiet. "Please!" No answer. "Wh-what's your name?" Gawain asked, trying a different approach.

The boy was quiet, shifting uncomfortably, but soon turned to him. "Papa's going to be mad at me if I talk to you… I have to go now."

"I just want your name," Gawain pled.

The boy was quiet. "Bran," he finally answered. "Bran de Lis." He rose to leave.

"Bran, please… Just-just tell me what he's going to do to me…" Gawain begged in as pathetic a voice as he could muster. It wasn't hard to do, because he felt pretty pathetic right now.

Bran tensed up. After a moment he turned back with tears threatening his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I can't."

"No! No, don't leave me, please! Help me! Help!" Gawain pled as Bran began to walk away.

"Tell him, son. Answer his questions," a voice said. Bran gasped, turning quickly looking pale. Gawain looked over as well in fear. There stood Brian of the Isles, tall and menacing and looking disturbingly amused at what he was seeing.

"Da," Bran said, pale. "I-I wasn't… I was just…"

"Answer his question, Bran," the man ordered again.

Bran looked back at Gawain appearing distraught. Gawain looked like he was drowning in despair as he stared at Brian. Their captive turned to Bran once more, eyes pleading with him to help him. Bran swallowed thickly. "I… He… We're bringing you to-to Dolorous Guard."

"That isn't the right answer, Bran," the man said.

Bran looked frantically at his father. "He-he's the son of the crown prince of Orkney, father," he said quietly, voice breaking. "The-the crown prince who's captain of the guard in Duloq."

"And that means something to me?" Brian asked.

"W-well this one's a prince. You-you can't do that to a prince. His father will cut you to pieces!" Bran insisted. "Then… then I'll be all alone…" Which would be a dream come true, he inwardly added, but that wasn't the card he needed to play, if he had a hope of getting his father to let this fish go.

Brian seemed to be taken aback but flattered by the remark. He chuckled and approached his son, gently cupping one side of his face. Bran leaned into the touch even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. His father stroked his cheek, and Bran wished desperately that the gesture could make him feel safe and alright again. It would if his father was any other father but this one… This sort of gentle touch shouldn't hurt so much… It should feel loving, but instead all it felt like was… was something far from love… "You don't need to worry about Lot of Orkney, pet. He's a weak man with a pathetic force at his back. I'll take care of you well. And of his little son too… Now, shall I find my friends and have them teach you what to do when your prisoner is in this vulnerable position?"

"Why… why must I share, father?" Bran asked with head hung low, voice sounding like it was about to break but by some miracle remaining steady. Brian darkly chuckled, tilting his son's face up approvingly. The look in his eyes… Bran knew it well enough. "Hold off until tomorrow, da," Bran pushed once more as Gawain watched in horror and discomfort, not sure what it was he was seeing but hating it with his every fiber. Suddenly he felt like he wasn't the one who _needed_ the rescuing… Given he was the one chained to the ground utterly helpless, that fact was speaking volumes. Brian chuckled and wrapped an arm around his son, leading him off into the woods muttering something about discussing the matter in private with his friends.

KAK

It was late at night when Bran and Brian reappeared, Bran with head hung low and in shame, Brian looking self-satisfied. Gawain stared at them quietly. Brian laid down to sleep and so did Bran… Gawain heard Bran begin to cry when Brian began to snore… The captive prince swallowed. He got the bad feeling he was beginning to get an idea of what the 'hurt' was going to be that Brian inflicted on him. "Bran?" he found himself saying, voice breaking to hear the other boy weeping. He felt like crying too. There was a soft gasp and the crying stopped; or rather was held back. "You-you didn't… I didn't want you to do that for me… You didn't have to do that for me." Silence. The other was probably ignoring him. "Just… just let it happen next time, okay?" Gawain quietly said, voice breaking again. He'd rather be the one suffering than letting someone else suffer for him.

Suddenly there was movement nearby. He gasped on feeling the ropes around his ankles being cut. He looked quickly over, eyes wide, and saw Bran there, sawing at them swiftly with a dagger, expression determined despite the tears streaking his face, which he furiously wiped away. The ropes snapped, and Gawain didn't even have time to register it before he heard Bran insert a key into the shackles around his wrists, quickly unlocking them. Gawain sat bolt upright, rubbing his wrists. He scrambled to his feet and wavered a bit unsteadily. Bran stood and balanced him. "Run. Run as fast as you can," Bran whispered.

"Come on. We can take your father's horse," Gawain said, grabbing the other's wrist and trying to pull him, but Bran didn't move. Gawain turned. "Bran, come on!" he insisted.

"I-I… But I can't!" Bran said, looking confused and unsure as to why this was happening.

"Yes, you can. If _I_ can so can you. The horse is right there. We can ride together and go back to Duloq and my father and we can be safe!" Gawain insisted. "He'll protect us."

"But-but Brian is my father and-and… I can't! He'll find me again and take me and kill me or worse and I just…" Bran began. He heard Brian snort and quickly looked over, staring.

"My father will protect you. _Us_ ," Gawain insisted. "I'm not leaving you here with him. You… you saved my life, probably, and definitely my honor. Now let me save yours." Bran stared at Gawain uncertainly but also hopefully, shifting. Finally, he nodded in agreement. Gawain smiled and pulled him quickly to the horse. The two boys mounted it and Gawain moved it into action, starting at a walk so as not to wake Brian. The moment they were far enough away, though, he whipped it up into a gallop. Bran gasped, clinging tightly to him obviously not used to riding in the back. "Just keep your balance and don't let go! We're free, Bran, we're free!" Gawain cheered. Bran was quiet, obviously not believing a word of it, but Gawain heard him let out a shaking and relieved breath so at least for now he felt like he could dare to believe it was over. That was all Gawain could have hoped for.

But it wasn't over… Not for Bran…

KAK

The horse galloped into Duloq's courtyard where Lot was in a frenzy, ordering men to ride out and find his son. "Daddy!" Gawain called out, riding into the lot and reigning the steed in, leaping off it and running straight to his father.

Lot whipped around. "Gawain!" he exclaimed, racing to the boy and grabbing him into his arms, lifting him off the ground and holding him tightly, rocking him and entwining his fingers in the child's hair. "Where were you?! You had me scared to death!"

"I-I went out hunting, papa, but I got lost," Gawain said. He wasn't going to tell Lot what had _actually_ happened just yet. Not in front of all these people. "But that boy there, he found me. His name is Bran and he saved me and helped me get back," Gawain said, pointing Bran out. Bran sat uncertainly on the horse, looking conflicted as to what to think. Gestures and touches such as the ones Lot was giving his son, as well as the term 'daddy', had probably all been corrupted to Bran, Gawain realized, and that wasn't fair, it wasn't! They shouldn't ever be corrupted. They were innocent and pure and good, and it wasn't okay!

Lot looked over at Bran with a curious frown. "You there, boy!" he called. Bran seemed to close rapidly in on himself, looking terrified. "Where do you hail from?"

"D-Dolorous Guard," Bran replied. The knights with Lot all gasped in horror, staggering away from Bran quickly and drawig their weapons. Lot looked stunned, staring at the now mortified child in disbelief. After a long moment, he turned to Gawain with eyes narrowed. "How about you tell me the truth of what happened?" he darkly said.

Gawain looked confused. "Dolorous Guard isn't affiliated with the Dolorous Tower, papa. He said so," he said.

"The boy?" Lot asked quickly.

"N-no, I just, um, he… Someone told me it wasn't," Gawain said.

Lot looked darkly over at Bran, who looked terrified now. "Who have you led here?" he darkly asked.

"He led _me_ here!" Gawain protested immediately, squirming out of his father's arms and returning to the horse. "He saved me and he's my friend so stop scaring him!"

"Guards, get to your posts and prepare for a potential attack!" Lot ordered his men. Bran gasped, looking ready to flee.

"What attack?!" Gawain insisted.

"Bran!" a voice shouted, sounding concerned and worried and genuine. Bran, though, went as white as a ghost, whipping around with eyes wide. Galloping towards them, through the lot, was a man on a horse that wasn't his own. Gawain didn't _want_ to know where he'd gotten it from. Brian of the Isles.

"Daddy, that's…" Gawain began in alarm.

"I'm Bran's father," the man cut off. "Thank goodness you found him, sir." He rode up to Lot, who warily watched him while raising an eyebrow.

"He's yours, then?" Lot said.

"Yes. My only child. He ran off last night, when we were camping in the woods on the way home," the man said.

"To Dolorous Guard," Lot remarked.

"Did he claim that? No. We're from the region around it, a nameless little hovel that we've tried to disassociate from that horrible place and its owner," the man said.

"I've heard of no town around there," Lot said.

"Because your sort can't be bothered rescuing the oppressed from a force you're terrified out of your skulls over," the man answered. Lot started, looking offended. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking my son home."

"Father, you can't let him, you can't! That's…" Gawain began. He cut off, catching his breath when he saw the concealed knife Brian of the Isles subtly flashed as a dark, quiet threat. His father didn't see it, focused on Gawain, but it was there, and it was ready to be used fatally on his father. "Why would you let them go back to that bad place after Bran saved me?" he covered smoothly.

"It's not bad, where we live," the man said. "It's just associated with a bad place, little one. How about you come along and see for yourself? You can visit with your new friend for a little while. Do say you will." The words were a command, Gawain knew. He stared, pale, at the knife brandished and at the ready to strike a killing blow to his dad.

"I-I… okay," Gawain relented, bowing his head.

"Not okay," Lot said firmly. He wasn't a fool. Something was off about this whole thing. The terror in the child's eyes and Bran's, and the wide-eyed stare of his son fixed on what seemed like him at first glance, but Lot realized was on something behind him or next to him, proved as much. He stepped quickly and pointedly away from the unknown man who had come. The man tried to follow and tried to stay close. Within striking range close. Lot shot him an ugly and warning scowl, moving farther away from him and going to his son, plucking Gawain off the ground. "He's not going anywhere," Lot firmly said, glaring darkly at the unknown man.

"Very well. Then I'll take my son and we'll be on our way. It's well to know yours is alright," the man said, riding up next to the horse the other boy was on. Gawain was shivering in Lot's arms looking like he wanted to blurt something out but was too afraid to. Bran whimpered slightly when the man seized the reigns of the horse. The child gave a dismayed sound, clinging to it tightly, when the man galloped off, leading it along.

"No, Bran!" Gawain cried out. Lot's eyes snapped to his son. "Father, you can't let him take Bran away, you can't! It's his father, yes, but his father is Brian of the Isles!" the boy exclaimed. Lot had all but dropped him on the ground before the words fully left Gawain's mouth, leaping onto a horse and charging after the two scowling. Brian pulled Bran's horse close, snatching his son from it as the child screamed, letting the extra go. The gallop sped up and Gawain watched helplessly on as Lot tried to ride the two down, murder in his eyes. The boy held his arms tightly, eyes wide, hoping and praying his father caught them before it was too late…

KAK

Lot charged after Brian of the Isles and the boy in his clutches. Brian scowled back at him, drawing his sword as Lot began closing the distance. Lot drew his own in response as the horses tore across the fields. He ran right at Brian, driving his horse to tackle Brian's own. Brian's horse whinnied in protest, almost falling but managing to stay up. Brian struck at Lot, whose armor deflected the blow. Lot stabbed at Brian's side, but his sword glanced off the armor as well. Brian was now off balance, though. Lot drove his horse to tackle Brian's once again. This time it screeched and began to fall. The child screamed in fear. Lot reached out, seizing his shirt and yanking him from the horse, placing him on his own and riding onward as Brian's horse kicked and flailed and staggered up before bolting. Brian got to his feet quickly as Lot charged at him again, sword brandished and ready to deliver a killing blow. Bran screamed, burying his face in his hands so he wouldn't see. Brian threw himself out of the way of the sword and noticed the other horse, the one Bran had taken to help Gawain escape, approaching. He grabbed it as it was going by, mounting up and charging away shouting a curse back at Lot.

Lot got ready to pursue before realizing the child he had on his own steed was now sobbing wretchedly in terror. He looked quickly down at the boy, silent. Finally, he put the sword away and turned his horse, riding at a trot back towards Duloq and saying absolutely nothing. The child seemed so afraid… Seemed like he was expecting him to do something to him as they rode… Lot felt sick at the thought of it. "You're alright now," he said in a gentle and reassuring tone. "You're alright. I'm not going to hurt you." Bran seemed like he wanted to believe it but didn't dare to. When they made it back to the city and nothing had been done to him, though, he seemed to start to feel a bit more at ease staring warily up at Lot, his big eyes darkened with suspicion and distrust that no child should ever feel… Lot wasn't naïve. He knew why that was so. He knew the sort of 'friends' Brian of he Isles made. "You're safe," he murmured once more.

Present

And Bran _had_ been, Gawain recalled as he went to the stables to prepare a horse to take out hunting. At least he had been for a while. The prince sighed, mounting the steed. A while hadn't lasted long. To be fair, Bran had been kept away from Brian longer than he _would_ have otherwise been if Lot been half the coward Farquaad had been. Gawain mounted his horse as he thought back to the trial that had come when Brian wrote to Farquaad threatening him for the return of Bran.

 _He watched numbly with his brothers and sister and Bran, clinging to his mother's dress and gazing fearfully down at his father who knelt in the middle of the courtroom surrounded by soldiers whose hands were on the hilts of their swords, ready to draw them and execute the man the second the command to do so was given. Lot's head was bowed low to Farquaad, who sat on a 'throne' looking livid and acting as judge._

 _"You kidnapped the child of Brian of the Isles! What made you think that was a good idea, you imbecile?!" Farquaad furiously demanded, shaking the letter dramatically in the air. "Because of you the entire kingdom is at risk, and for what? Because you decided to be 'noble'? Decided to save a 'poor, innocent soul' from a 'terrible' fate?" Sarcasm and distain dripped from the man's every word, and Gawain hated him with a passion for it._

 _"Now you're going to give him that boy back and…" Farquaad began._

 _"I'm not giving him his boy back," Lot cut off darkly._

 _Farquaad blinked, shocked at the defiance. "Captain, you will give that boy back or when he rides against us it will be **your** children I give as gifts to him for his leaving Duloq peacefully! On **top** of the boy that's rightfully his," Farquaad yelled._

 _"I'm not giving him his boy back," Lot repeated._

 _"Captain, this is nothing short of treachery!" Farquaad shot. Lot was silent. Farquaad, scowling, soon sat back in his chair. "You of course know the punishment for treachery?" he said, tone calmer but no less dark._

 _"Death," Lot answered without hesitation._

 _"Good. Then what do you have to say for yourself, before I pass that judgement upon you?" Farquaad asked._

 _"Brian of the Isles is a coward. He won't come, and if he does then rest assured, my lord, I will drive him back into the hole he crawled out from," Lot said, clenching his fists murderously._

 _Farquaad stared at him silently. "You will give him that boy back or I will take all of your own, and your daughter, and present them to him as replacements," he threatened once more._

 _"You won't touch them," Lot said darkly._

 _Farquaad scowled. "And why not?" he asked, teeth gritted._

 _"Because you'll have no need to. If Brian comes, my lord, I will present you his head on a pike as a gift, I give you my word," Lot said._

 _Farquaad ground his jaw, fingers drumming on the arm of his chair. "Can you be certain you will be victorious, captain?" Farquaad asked_

 _"More than certain," Lot answered._

 _"Give me one reason I shouldn't have you quartered," Farquaad said._

 _"I can give you many, many reasons, but since you ask only for one, very well. You won't stand against him without me. Gifts will not appease an ally of the giants of the Dolorous Tower. I'm all that keeps you from defeat," Lot said._

 _Farquaad was quiet. "I will consider it," he finally replied. "Tomorrow you will present before me again, so I can pass my judgement. Be on your way, Captain."_

 _"My lord," Lot replied, bowing to Farquaad again then rising and leaving. Mother's hand loosened on his own, Gawain felt._

The young prince remembered what happened after. That night father had come to them, and he had packed them all into a carriage under the cover of darkness, Bran too, and sent them all away to Worcestershire Academy where they would be safe. Where Farquaad couldn't touch them. It had been the most terrifying few months of Gawain's life, when he didn't know what fate befell his father or what had happened or what was going on. Then Lot had come to Worcestershire once again and told them that grandfather had died and now he was king of Orkney and of Lothian, where Duloq was, both. He had diplomatic immunity now, in fact technically he was _Farquaad's_ ruler at that point though he planned to remain subservient to the man as his Captain of the Guard, because that had been part of the plea deal they'd arranged. All would be well. Gawain had never felt more relieved and grateful…

But Pynchley had been as much a coward as Farquaad, if not more, and when Brian tracked Brandelis down at Worcestershire, Pynchley had handed him over to the man on a silver platter and worked out a bargain and contract that kept him doomed to always be given back… He would never forget the look on Brandelis' face when he was handed over to his father… He would never forget how drastically the other had changed when he finally came back a few years later… Gawain let out a shaking sigh and pushed the horse into a gallop, wishing he could forget… Wishing more that he could save Bran again and this time forever…

KAK

Arthur sat distractedly on his throne, trying to hold court but ending up too preoccupied with the fact he'd failed to protect Bran, and the realization that on top of that he also had Lot and Morgause to contend with. Ector, realizing his foster son's distraction, called a close to the proceedings with a promise they would be resumed either later in the day or tomorrow. Arthur was glad for the respite. He let out a heavy and shaking sigh. The more time that passed with him on the throne, the less significant his being named high king seemed and the more useless he felt. Had he changed a single thing since coming to power? Done anything of note at all? Lot's words plagued him. A boy king so incompetent he couldn't even sit on his own throne… Maybe Lot was right… He couldn't even save Brandelis… He was no high king. This king thing just… maybe it wasn't something he was cut out for… Guilt and shame and worthlessness were tearing him apart from the inside out. He just wanted to shut himself away and cry and wish someone, _anyone_ , else was on the throne…

"Anna?" Arthur heard Ector ask. He looked quickly up. Sure enough, Morgause was there looking worried and stressed. "What's wrong?" Ector questioned, frowning.

"Gawain is missing," Anna answered. Arthur sat up straight quickly, taken aback by the words. "He went off to hunt this morning, he usually does, but he hasn't come back," she said.

"Perhaps he just got lost?" Ector offered.

"No, no, Gareth and Gaheris went to look for him. They found his horse wandering alone and scared. There was blood on its flank. He was taken!" Anna said, genuinely distressed which was totally not something Arthur was used to seeing from his sister. Just then said sister's gaze fell on him, and Arthur stiffened. Uh oh. "Arthur, you have to do something! _Someone_ has to do something, and I can't because I have Mordred and Loholt to look after right now, and Lot's in conference with the faculty at your worthless school, and no one else is here!"

"Morgause, calm yourself. Let's look at this rationally," Ector said.

"My son has been taken!" Morgause shouted. " _Forget_ rationality!" She turned to Arthur again. "Brother, do something!"

Arthur, flustered and pale and tense and worried now, shook his head in denial. No… no, this couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening! Dammit! He swallowed painfully, feeling a threatening burn in his eyes, and bowed his head. "Anna, I-I can't," he said, voice breaking helplessly. Anna started, looking shocked at this. Ector too looked stunned at the reply. What was going on with his son, he worriedly wondered? This wasn't him. This was such a step back from his facing off with Brian of the Isles not even long ago! What was wrong? "I-I'm not good enough or strong enough or smart enough or anything. I… I can't help you, sis. I just… I can't… I'm physically and mentally incapable of it." According to Lancelot, that was... And probably Lot, though Lot hadn't voiced it quite at blatantly. "But-but there's a classmate of mine here in my halls, dying to become a hero. Lancelot du Lac. He's Gawain's best friend. Get him to come to me and I'll send him after your son, but I can't do anything for my nephew… I'll only fail and end up captured too or getting us both killed…"

"You are so weak!" Morgause freaked. "What kind of king are you that you're this pathetic?! He's your nephew!"

"I'm not a king and I don't care what anyone says! I'm sick of this game!" Arthur yelled. "I'm just an ordinary kid! Lancelot's the guy you need to…"

"You worthless little sh…" Morgause began.

"Leave, Anna, now!" Ector immediately and sharply ordered, rising. "I'll send a search party for Gawain, but for now take Arthur's advice. Lancelot is one of the most promising students I have ever seen. There is nothing he can't do if he puts his mind to it, but don't you stand here and shout curses at my son!"

"Foster son," Anna bit. "And a disappointing one at that."

"Speak another cruel word to him in my presence. I dare you," Ector darkly warned. Morgause glared at the man. After a moment she turned and stormed away. She wouldn't test Ector's limits. Arthur hung his head low, sniffing. Lancelot would save Gawain… Ector turned to him. "Arthur, we _will_ talk about this. I want to know what's going on with you. No more silence." Arthur didn't move or respond, just looked away miserably.

KAK

It wasn't long before Morgause brought Lancelot before Arthur to receive orders. Upon realizing who was going to be _handing_ him the orders, though, the jock shut down immediately. He hardly even heard Arthur's request. He got 'missing' 'I can't go' 'I'll only fail' and 'only you can save him' out of it, which was more than enough fuel for him to belittle and insult Arthur like there was no tomorrow; and in the end Lancelot, of course, refused to go. "Be a man, Arthur, and tackle it yourself. If you don't grow a pair, you'll be stuck the pathetic loser you've always been forever. Of course, _that_ won't be a surprise. Not sure you could advance passed that if you tried," Lancelot insulted before turning on his heel and marching out, leaving Arthur looking devastated. Lancelot, having spotted the look, inwardly cringed before pushing away thoughts of guilt. The guy had it coming, after all… Wow he was a creep…

He paused, looking back at the throne room to see Ector comforting Arthur, holding him in his arms as he wept and pressing for information as to what had happened, which Arthur would inevitably give, which would screw Lancelot over, but Lance knew he'd totally deserve it. The jock winced and looked over at Morgause, who glared at him in outrage. Not for her brother's sake, but for the fact he was refusing to act for Gawain's benefit. Gawain… Gawain was becoming just another nobody too, the closer he got to Arthur and the more he defended him. A skilled nobody, the guy had potential, but a nobody nonetheless. Lancelot shifted uncomfortably, going over the request in his mind again. Gawain was missing... But Gawain had pulled this kind of thing before! He sometimes just lost track of time. It wasn't like it was rare for him to up and disappear for a few hours. The guy was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, Lancelot knew. He didn't need help getting out of trouble! ...Right...?

Lancelot began to pace a bit uneasily, looking slightly troubled. Okay, maybe Gawain didn't generally lose track of time for _this_ long... But it wasn't like he owed the guy anything right now! They weren't exactly getting along these days since Gawain had started buddying up with Arthur. Still... Gawain was his best friend. Sure, they hadn't been getting along wonderfully lately, but the guy still was and would always be his first true and best friend _despite_ all the bumps in the road they hit. What did going out to check on him have to do with his grudge against Arthur anyway? His friend might need help, and damned if he didn't help him! He would _be_ a hero. It's what he wanted most in life anyway. Frowning in determination, he slipped out of the palace, mounted his horse, and set a mental course. He wasn't sure where to start looking, but he guessed he could ask around. Given the fact Brian of the Isles had been here, he had major suspicions he was the culprit, and if he asked about the man he'd get his answers because it wasn't like the creep was easy to miss. Questioning citizens was as good a place to start as any, and if it confirmed his suspicions all the better.

"Lancelot!" a voice called. Lancelot looked back quickly and started. Servause, he saw, watching him solemnly. "Let me come with you," the slave said.

"Uh, yeah no. Bad idea, man," Lancelot replied. The guy probably had too many mental scars going on in his head for _that_ noise.

"He was taken by Brian of the Isles. There's no other explanation. So I'm going t' come with ye," Stephen said. This time it was a statement. "Bran helped save me life and honor, as did Gawain. Now I'm going t' help save theirs."

Lancelot winced, hesitating, then looked a bit ashamed. "Okay," he relented. "Just you and me then?"

"Just you and me," Servause confirmed.

Lancelot gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine," he said. "Let's just round up some gear and get going. Every second we waste is another second Gawain and Bran don't have, if you're right about Brian taking Gawain."

"I am," Stephen stated. He went off to fetch some armor and a horse while Lancelot waited.

"You're going after my brother?" Gareth's voice asked suddenly from nearby.

Lancelot started, turning, and frowned. "What's it to you?" he asked.

"I want in," Gareth said.

"You? What's a prep like you gonna do?" Lancelot asked.

"You saw what I could do during the failed game of houses," Gareth replied, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. "I'm coming."

"Plan on dragging along any of your other brothers?" Lancelot asked.

"Nope," Gareth replied.

"That's it? Just nope? No elaboration or anything?" Lancelot incredulously asked.

"Nope," Gareth answered.

Lancelot raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes. "Fine, knock yourself out. See if I care. If you get yourself killed that's not _my_ problem." Gareth shrugged. It wasn't long before Servause returned, ready to go, and saw Gareth. He was a bit surprised it was Gareth volunteering himself to come along and not one of the guys older brothers, but he didn't question it. "We're a day behind them so we have a day to catch up on. Let's get moving," Lance said.

"We have to go to Duloq. Carriage would be the fastest way," Gareth said. "From there it's a day or two's journey to Dolorous Guard, depending on your pace and how long you walk. The carriage drivers know the safest routes and the fastest ones. The fastest ones are usually risky so they'll cost you a pretty penny, but like I said, it's the fastest way."

"Not so. If we take the horses we may move quicker still than if we took a carriage," Stephen argued.

" _We_ don't know the fastest routes," Gareth pointed out. "In Duloq we can rent some horses and go the rest of the way with them, but unless someone here has a magical guide, we're screwed." Lancelot shifted a bit, technically he _did_ have a magical guide, but ultimately he refrained from speaking up.

"We can buy the routes off the drivers," Servause argued. "Then we'll know the fastest ways too. The sooner we're on our way and the faster we can move, the better." The others agreed with this course and the trio rode immediately off to search for their missing friend.

KAK

Gawain should have seen it coming. He should have noticed history repeating, but as he'd been blind back when he was a preteen, he was blind now. He honestly and truly had not expected it. One minute he was taking aim at a deer, the next a crushing blow was delivered to the back of his head and there was blackness.

He woke up in a room in some sort of decrepit palace that smelled of sulphur and brimstone… He woke up, and there was Brandelis, perched on the windowsill looking woefully out. Gawain winced, letting out a whimper. "Bran?" he asked, voice sounding dry and painful like he hadn't had anything to drink for too long.

"You don't learn, do you Gawain?" Bran quietly and tiredly asked, not turning to face him. "You just don't get it."

Gawain looked puzzled, but gradually realization started to dawn on him. Fear filled his expression. He tried to move quickly only to find himself held down by chains shackling him to the bed he was on. He wore only a loincloth, and panic seized him. He cursed loudly, strugging frantically. "Let me out, let me out! Bran, please!" Gawain pled.

"You really don't get it," Bran said, sniffing and closing his eyes, bowing his head and not turning. "There's no escaping from Dolorous Guard, Gawain. Arthur's cousin Fiona not withstanding, and that was pure fluke."

"Then let's fluke it again!" Gawian insisted. "Just-just let me free, man. Please."

"I can't," Brandelis replied. "I don't have the key… Dad won't make the same mistake twice either…"

"That man does _not_ deserve to be called any kind of father!" Gawain shouted.

"Yeah, well ain't reality a bitch?!" Brandelis replied, getting off the windowsill and walking towards Gawain. He grabbed up a waterskin. "You going to drink something, or do I have to force this down your throat?" Gawain stared at him a long moment. He'd do it, he realized with a slight chill. He would do it… Force it, that was.

Finally, Gawain nodded in agreement. Brandelis looked relieved for that and put the waterskin to Gawain's lips, letting him drink from it. "The way you drink it back… Dad's 'friends' will have fun with you," Brandelis said when the skin was empty, and he pulled it away. Gawain looked visibly sickened at the statement, and terrified anew. Bran shook his head. "You shouldn't have gone out there alone, Gawain. Whatever happens to you here? It's on your head and yours alone." Gawian looked devastated at the remark. Bran sighed in frustration, turning to leave.

"So-so what? You're-you're just going to stand by and do nothing?!" Gawain demanded.

"Nah, he'll probably make me watch. Probably his friends will try to get me to join in which I'll, of course, refuse to do, for all the good it'll do us. Sorry Gawain, but I can't overpower the lords of the Dolorous Tower. I've tried it before and ended up a broken mess for it. Neither can you. I mean we drove them out of their tower because luck and because there were so many of us, but now?" Brandelis said. He shrugged by way of finishing that sentence. Gawain was white. Caradoc and Turquine, he realized with a chill. They'd fled here. They must have! And they'd been here before _too_ , if Brandelis was... 'acquainted' with them like he implied.

"Bran, don't leave me! You can't leave!" Gawain pled. "Please, we can figure this out!"

"Yeah? Like we did when we were kids? Because _that_ worked so well," Bran shot, spinning on him with eyes flashing darkly.

"You were free," Gawain hissed through gritted teeth. "For a while you were free!"

"A while wasn't good enough!" Brandelis shouted. The two stared at each other, Gawain pleading with his gaze for mercy and for Bran not to give up, Bran angry and beyond the point of being able to try and fight anymore. After a moment Bran shook his head and turned to leave. "I'll keep them occupied for as long as I can. Maybe someone will be in time to save _you_ at least."

"Let them come," Gawain quickly said. "Don't make that sacrifice for me. Please."

"What sacrifice, Gawain? It was going to happen anyway. Not like it'll be out of the ordinary for me," Brandelis said with a bitter laugh before shutting the door behind him. Gawain's heart plummeted into the pit of his stomach and he grimaced, shutting his eyes tightly and praying this was just a bad dream.


	16. Rescuers

Rescuers

(A/N: Sorry for delays in posting this. Been doing a lot of landscaping/yardwork lately so don't have a lot of time.)

Gawain lay in the darkness, grinding his teeth and listening in agony to the noises coming from a nearby room. Whimpers, cries, pleas, thumping… He knew what it was and what it meant. He'd fought until exhaustion to get out, longing to save his friend, but he'd failed. There was no escaping these bonds. It took too long for silence to fall. He lay still, miserably staring up at the decrepit ceiling. Footsteps approached. They weren't Bran's. He could only assume they belonged to one of the giants. He swallowed, closing his eyes and bracing. The door opened, and the man came in. Gawain felt hands grip his face. Thumbs reached up, prying open his eyes, and he found himself staring up at Sir Turquine. A dark smile was on the man's lips.

"Are you ready, boy?" he asked. Gawain almost whimpered, but bit it back. He refrained from showing any outward emotion if it could be helped. This man's sort preyed on fear and vulnerability. If he showed no vulnerability or fear, maybe the fun would be taken out of it? "Oh, you think that will deter me? Precious," the man said. "If you give no reaction, I'll force one. Sir Brandin, or Brian as you know him, lost you for me once already. I'm not inclined to lose such a prize again." Gawain caught his breath sharply as the man began to play where he had no right to. He willed himself not to whimper, but a whimper escaped nonetheless, and a gasp. Turquine chuckled and bent over him. He whispered, lips brushing Gawain's ear, "If you ever make it back to your father, let him know what happened to you here was a gift from us to him."

Gawain couldn't stop the yell that escaped his lips as panic began to overwhelm him and he started to struggle. Turquine forced him to be still, scowling, and seemed to be about to act but just then Brandelis shouted from outside the door, "Sir Turquine, your brother and my father request your presence immediately! A party of three approaches the castle. They're armed."

Turquine looked startled, then scowled. He growled in annoyance and got off Gawain, going to the window and looking out. Sure enough, a party of three stood on the hill looking at the castle from the ridge. "How is this possible?" he growled darkly.

"How is it possible you all thought you could get away with this?" Gawain hissed in response.

"We could have! Either your father is a bloodhound on a steed fast as lightning, or the young high king is," Turquine barked back, turning and leaving quickly. Gawain let out a shaking sigh and swallowed, looking towards the door worriedly. He saw Brandelis there, staring after the man, and his heart plummeted. The other boy wore nothing but a loincloth as a covering and was rubbing a badly bruised arm. It wasn't all that was bruised either. Bran looked towards him exhaustedly. Gawain wanted to cry, tears burning his eyes. What kind of life had his friend lived…?

Brandelis approached him wearily. "What was he able to do?" he asked.

"Touch," Gawain replied. "And kiss, but it didn't go farther."

"Still too far," Brandelis said with a shaking sigh. "I don't… I don't know how to save you… I don't have the key, I don't have a lockpick, I don't have anything."

"Then worry about saving yourself, dammit Bran!" Gawain said.

"No," he replied. He drew a shaking breath. "It's better if I take the brunt of it rather than someone else. I'm… I'm used to it, Gawain, I'm already tainted and dishonored, but you… You're still pure and undefiled. Well, not undefiled because Jessica, but you get the point! And it's probably best you stay that way too for the sake of, you know, the whole land? I mean, at least _one_ of us has a father willing to burn down the country for his kids."

"It didn't sound like you were used to it," Gawain bit. He immediately regretted how it came out, but Bran seemed either too tired to be offended or just resigned like he'd expected it. "Sorry," Gawain said, looking away with a wince.

"It's fine," Brandelis replied quietly. He went to the window, looking out. "They're here for you."

"And you," Gawain said.

"If they're your father's, no. They're after _you_... There's no reason he'd send men after me…" Brandelis said.

"That can be debated later," Gawain said. He looked towards the window. "Can you tell who they are?"

"No," Brandelis replied, shaking his head. "Their armor hides them completely. It probably won't matter anyway. Few knights have ever survived Dolorous Guard. The bodies and skeletons litter the ground like trophies." Gawain looked at the window once more, now concerned for whoever his - their - rescuers might be.

KAK

Agravaine lay still and numb in his room, listening to Lot totally freaking out as Morgause told him Gawain was missing and that Brian of the Isles was the suspected kidnapper. He hated that he couldn't stand up and go out there and find his brother and get him back! Instead he was stuck in bed because moving too much would probably result in a ridiculously early death for _him_. Tears threatened his eyes. The door opened. He glanced over. Selices, he noticed. Selices too looked deeply troubled by what was happening. The elf approached him and perched on some kind of surface he apparently deemed perch-worthy but that Agravaine hadn't even noticed was there. The dressers and tables were nearer to him, so whatever Selices had sat himself down on couldn't be comfortable. Or maybe it was fine for an elf. Silence. "Take the helmet off and stay a while," Agravaine flatly said. Selices eyed him then began to remove all of the armor. "I didn't say take it _all_ off," Agravaine added, grimacing.

"I am wearing my usual light armor beneath it," Selices said.

"That's not armor," Agravaine stated. "It's a few bits of leather and metal stitched together."

"It gets the job done," Selices replied.

" _What_ job?" Agravaine asked. Selices gave him a dirty look and he winced. "Sorry," he sheepishly said. Selices harrumphed and finished removing the heavy armor. Silence again. "Where did they take my brother?" Agravaine asked finally.

Selices tensed up slightly, but soon his shoulders sagged. "Dolorous Guard," he answered. "A decrepit castle surrounded by a lake of boiling lava, smelling of sulphur and brimstone and destruction and utter despair... It was beautiful once, when I was still a child. Perhaps five or so in human years… A lake, once upon a time, crystal clear and blue. The gardens were beautiful… The palace was a marvel once too… I used to play by it with the other elflings. It was so deep but so clean you could still see the bottom, and it looked as if you could touch it though of course you couldn't... It was a crater lake. The volcano was supposed to be extinct. We didn't know a dragon slumbered beneath it… Then one day it woke up, and it burst through the earth that had closed over it with a vicious roar. It was huge. You've never seen anything like it before. When it burst out it was like a stop pulled from a bottle of mead and the volcano exploded, spewing fire and lava high into the air. The dragon razed the surroundings areas to the ground leaving nothing behind but ruins of villages and broken, wretched survivors who needed to try and rebuild. Only the elfin king's illusions saved _us_ from its wrath, and as soon as it seemed to be not paying attention, he led us away from that place. Eventually the eruption settled, but the lake of lava is still bubbling to this day. It's likely its erupting days are over, there's no pressure anymore bottling it down, but the hazard remains."

Agravaine was quiet. "Can anyone save my brother from there?" he asked quietly.

"Maybe. There hasn't been much success freeing prisoners from that place though. Last I recall there was a dragon guarding it. Not the one that burst out of the crater, but one of its many offspring. I'm not sure if she is still there or not," Selices said. "She drove Brian and his men from that place and took over it. I do not know how the tower's prisoner was fed after that, or if she was. If Brian and his men have returned there, then I suppose the dragon is gone. Brian's forces aren't to be reckoned with, for he is a valuable ally of the Dolorous Tower and his warriors were obviously enough men strong that it left an impression on Caradoc and Turquine, but even _they_ didn't dare face off against that flying lizard."

"So there's no hope?" Agravaine asked a bit meekly.

Selices was quiet. His first instinct was to answer no, but then _he'd_ had no hope either and now here he was. Away from the giants of Dolorous Tower. Free... "It seems that there is always hope after all," he settled on answering finally. Agravaine seemed a bit appeased at that, letting out a soft breath of relief.

KAK

Lamorak listened from hiding as Lot was freaking out and as his wife tried to soothe him. He peered quietly out in concern, but his eyes fell on Anna and he caught his breath, immediately flushing and ducking back out of sigh, looking unimpressed with himself. Seriously? She was married! And Arthur's older sister! And the mom of a guy his own age! But damned if she wasn't breathtaking. Wasn't like the age gap was all that big. Whoa, no! Concern for Lot first, being entranced with Morgause never. He peered around once more to see her holding Lot's hands in hers and murmuring softly to him. Lot looked terrified and devastated, and honestly Lamorak couldn't blame him. He was kind of terrified too... Of what was happening to Gawain and to Brandelis. He'd never been overly close with either until more recently - yes, he was low-key starting to get attached to his classmates - but still. Morgause kissed him and Lamorak didn't like the jealous feel stirring in his stomach. He immediately banished it. Her married, him too young for her. She turned and left Lot alone. Lot looked woefully out a window looking lost. Lamorak waited a few seconds before slipping out of hiding and approaching the king.

"Your majesty? Lot?" Lamorak spoke up as he came near. Lot looked wearily and curiously over at him. "Lancelot has ridden with the slave Servause and your son Gareth to go after Gawain," he grimly said. "I saw them riding away from my window and came immediately to tell you."

Lot's eyes opened wide in shock and horror. He blinked blankly then reacted. "Assemble my men. Meet me outside," he directed succinctly.

"Um, when did I become your subject?" Lamorak dubiously asked, though he nonetheless dutifully followed.

"You didn't," Lot answered. "If you'd rather stay here, be my guest. Fewer infants I'll need to babysit."

Lamorak started and looked offended before replying almost defiantly, "I'll come with you." Besides, it might impress Mor... Oh crap, he was doing it again! Again he tried to banish the thought.

"Don't slow me down," Lot replied.

"If anything it'll be he other way! Now let's save those poor unfortunate souls," Lamorak shot. Lot gave him an annoyed look, but let it go.

KAK

The three boys stood on the ridge, staring with mouths agape at the decrepit, fiery castle. "…Wow," Gareth finally said. "Cliched much?"

"That cliché is going to get your brother killed if we don't move fast," Lancelot replied. "We need to get down there yesterday. Come on." His concern and fear for Gawain was evident in his voice and he knew it. He wished he was half as good as hiding it as Gareth was, because Gareth was taking this way rougher than he let on. He'd heard him quietly crying last night while they'd camped. They had all tried to pretend like they didn't know what would happen to Gawain in that castle, but they couldn't lie to themselves long. They knew the truth. If it hadn't happened already, it was going to happen soon. And Brandelis… He didn't even want to _think_ about the hell that guy had lived through. He'd never known… If he had, maybe he could have done something.

They approached the rickety hanging bridge and grimaced. "Ooh… That's a long way down," Gareth said. And a long unstable bridge.

"Turn back," Lancelot replied, shrugging and starting across. Of course, the first step he took he nearly fell through with a cry. If not for Stephen's quick reflexes he'd be toast about now. He gaped down in horror.

"I'll go across first. I'm the lightest of all of us," Gareth said.

"Your armor gives ye a lot o' added weight," Servause pointed out.

"And you two even more," Gareth replied, starting to carefully pick his way across. The boards creaked slightly but held up. This bridge looked newer than he'd have expected it would. Maybe there had been another but it had given out and collapsed. This one didn't seem like it could have been any better mae than the old one, but then he guessed that Brian of the Isles wouldn't have put much thought into making it safe to cross. The guy probably had another secret and safer way to reach Dolorous Guard. Gareth made it half way across before looking back at the others, waiting. Stephen was next to brave it, removing part of his armor but not all. He wanted to be as light as could be risked with as much freedom of movement as possible. He made it safely to Gareth. Lancelot, very wary and cautious about crossing now that he'd almost gone through, followed, removing no armor pieces of armor at all. After all, it hadn't slowed him down yet. Gareth kept going, leading the procession across the precarious hanging bridge. Soon they were all safe on the other side, pleased with themselves that they'd mustered up the courage to do that.

"Now what?" Lancelot asked.

"Try not to make ourselves known," Servause said. "In and out like ghosts. If we're careful, they should be none the wiser." They went to the doors of the castle and pushed them open only to gasp, mouths dropping. Standing there forming a small wall was a group Dolorous Guard knights, each one in wicked looking armor with weapons drawn and at the ready.

Lancelot scowled. "You were saying?" he said to Stephen.

"Ooh…" Servause squeaked. They were done for.

Lancelot scoffed, looked ahead, and shouted, "Charge!"

"What now?!" Gareth exclaimed. Already, though, Lancelot and Servause were charging. Gareth grimaced but quickly, albeit reluctantly, followed, though he made it a point to hang a little bit back. If he found a way to slip past these men, he was taking it and he was finding his brother and Brandelis and getting them out. He was no Agravaine with a lockpick, but he could manage okay. His brother had been teaching him and he'd been getting the hang of it pretty good. The sooner he got Gawain and Brandelis into this fight too, the higher their odds of getting out alive.

"Where's Gareth?!" Lancelot shouted over at Stephen upon noticing Gareth wasn't near. Oh if anything happened to the guy Gawain would have his head, Agravaine, Gaheris, Mordred, and Loholt would split the limbs, and Lot would get what was left over.

Servause scanned the area in concern and noticed Gareth slipping away up a set of stairs. He smirked. "Bringing in the cavalry!" he replied. Lancelot looked puzzled at this but then seemed to guess at what it meant. He smirked. That sneaky little dog. Good. They just had to keep the men busy until Gareth came back with presumably Gawain and Brandelis. There were only ten men. It shouldn't be too much for him and Servause to hold them off until backup arrived.

KAK

Gareth looked back at the top of the steps, a bit hesitant to leave the other two in the lurch like this, but they were faring incredibly well he noted, so he could afford this risk he decided. He frowned and pressed on, heading for the towers. He was unsure where they'd be, but he'd assume the highest tower was the prison tower and they'd be somewhere shoved in there. He hurried in and began searching each cell. "Gawain?! Brandelis?!" he called. "Gawain, Bran!" He ran up the steps and continued shouting their names. He went around a bend. "Gawain, Br…" he trailed off, freezing in place and gasping. There in front of him stood Brian of the Isles, an ugly scowl on his face and murder in his eyes. "Oh shi…" Gareth squeaked out. He stopped himself before saying the whole word. He swallowed and quickly drew his sword, eyes wide. He was glad for his armor suddenly. The guy wouldn't see how utterly terrified he actually was. Of course, odds were he could sense it well enough. "I…" he began. He hated that his voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "I've come for the stolen prince and your son, you… monstrous beast! Get out of my way or die!"

Brian began to chuckle darky and menacingly. Gareth shifted uncomfortably. Oh boy… With a roar the man suddenly attacked. Gareth yelped, leaping about a foot and holding up his sword, blocking the first blow and almost breaking his arms in the process. He inwardly cursed and pulled away from Brian before slashing at him desperately and quickly. Brian blocked each attack and tried to run him through. Gareth barely managed to dodge. Given the sword went right through the thick stone, it was probably good that he'd moved out of the way instead of relying on his armor, because that strike would have gone right through it probably.

"Oh hell no," Gareth said. He ran passed Brian as the man was trying to pull out his sword, pressing on. "Gawain, Brandelis, answer me please!" he shouted frantically. He heard the man's footsteps behind him and gasped. He resisted the urge to look back, it would only slow him down, and pressed on. "Gawain! Bran!" he shouted as loudly as he could. He cried out as he was seized by the arm and spun around. He shouted in alarm, expecting a sword through his body like Agravaine, but suddenly Brian stiffened, freezing, and collapsed to the ground. Gareth cried out as he fell beneath the man, and quickly he scrambled out from under him gaping in horror. He looked up and started. "Brandelis!" he exclaimed in relief. "Oh thank goodness. Quick, where's Gawain? We're getting you two out of here."

" _Who_ are you?" Bran asked in disbelief.

"Oh, right, armor," Gareth said. He pulled off his helmet quickly. Brandelis stared at him in disbelief and looked like he was torn between bursting into laughter or firing off a dozen questions about how it was possible a guy like Gareth could have made it this far into a deathtrap like Dolorous Guard. He wasn't exactly known for his prowess in school, after all.

"Are you serious?" Brandelis finally settled on saying.

"Can we discuss my credentials later?" Gareth said, frowning at him and putting back on the helmet. "Bring me to my brother. I can lockpick him out of whatever chain he's in."

"You won't need to. Your distracting dad gave _me_ the chance to knock him out, as you can plainly see. He has the keys on him, or should," Brandelis said, kneeling by Brian and starting to search. The man wouldn't have had time to hide them away before going to face the infiltrators. Soon he pulled them out, dangling them in front of Gareth.

"Oh great, easy. Now let's get Gawain, get you dressed into, you know, something you can fight in, get _him_ into armor too, and get down there to help the others against Brian's men," Gareth said.

Brandelis hesitated a bit. "I… There's no point in your bringing me with you," he finally said, bowing his head.

"Uh, yeah. There kind of is. You're one of us. We're not leaving here without you," Gareth said.

"It's pointless. He'll just find me and take me back again…" Brandelis quietly said.

"No. He won't. He's made himself our enemy now. Worcestershire isn't obliged to let him take you anymore or even go close to their campus, despite that contact or whatever the hell Pynchly did that signed you away," Gareth said.

"I'm done hoping for freedom, Gareth," Brandelis said with a tired sigh. "It'll never come. Not for me."

Gareth was quiet. "Okay, let me make this really simple. You're coming if we have to tie you up and carry you like a sack of potatoes, capiche?! Now bring me to my flipping brother so I can save that flipping idiot and get him flipping dressed and armored up, so we can get out of this flipping tower and back to flipping Far Far Away!" he shouted. "You don't have a choice, man. Hate having to say that, you've probably had no choices most of your life, but seriously?! Why would you think we'd leave you here? Come on already!" Brandelis was quiet, looking away. "Bran, listen to me very carefully. You're _literally_ our only hope right now. You and Gawain joining this fight is going to make or break us, okay, so just… just come on."

Brandelis glanced at him, looking a bit torn, then sighed and nodded, narrowing his eyes in determination. "Follow me," he said. Immediately he began to run. Gareth pursued quickly.

KAK

Brandelis reached the door of Gawain's room and paused for Gareth to catch up. "Uh, do me a big favor and don't let Gawain know it's me, kay?" Gareth said a little nervously.

Brandelis raised an eyebrow. "Uh, why?" he asked.

"Be-cause I'm his baby brother? It's a big bro thing. If he finds out I showed up here personally I'm _so_ dead," Gareth replied. "In fact, regarding the rest of the rescue party; if you can't see who they are, don't ask. They probably don't really want to be called out for this."

"You know what? Whatever. I really don't care," Brandelis said, rolling his eyes and shoving open the door. "Gawain!" he called, running towards the bed. Gareth stepped in and faltered, heart skipping a beat and a feeling of nausea going through him to see his brother chained down and near naked. Gawain looked quickly over and his eyes widenend in hope. "We're getting out of here," Brandelis said, quickly unlocking Gawain. Gawain instantly moved to try and leap up, but his body wasn't working. Brandelis caught him as he fell off the bed, steadying the other and helping him rise a bit slower. He'd been on his back for a while now, so it was understandable that he'd be a little clumsy on his feet. "Get your bearings fast. We need to move, get you armored up, and get down to the rest of the party to help them fend off my dad's men."

"Glad you're choosing hope again," Gawain said.

"I'm not. _That_ guy gave me no choice," Brandelis said, jerking his thumb back at the armored Gareth.

Gawain looked over. "I don't know what you said, but thank you for talking sense into him," he said.

"Uh, no problem," Gareth replied, trying to disguise his voice. Gawain knew instantly it was disguised, the eyebrow raise gave it away, but it seemed to do the trick for now with keeping him in the dark.

Gawain looked at Brandelis. "Where are my clothes?" he asked.

"Disposed of probably. Why would you need them here after all? You can borrow some of mine. Armor isn't in short supply around here, considering you're willing to wear it off a dead corpse," Brandelis replied.

Gawain grimaced. "Is there no other choice?" he lamely asked.

"Nope," Brandelis ruefully said, shaking his head.

Gawain sighed. "Fine. Let's go," he relented. Quickly the three left the room and headed for Brandelis'. Not long after, dressed and armored up, Brandelis and Gawain followed Gareth quickly back to the others.


	17. Escape

Escape

(A/N: I have no excuse as to why this was so late. Sorry for the delay. Hopefully I'll get better about posting the remaining chapters.)

The timing couldn't have been better Lancelot noted, when Gareth got back with Brandelis and Gawain. Their sudden arrival saved their sorry backsides. It was nothing short of a miracle they'd stayed alive thus far, but they wouldn't last much longer so they needed to run. They did so the minute the other three joined up with them, fleeing out of the castle and running towards the bridge. "There it is. We're almost home free!" Lancelot said, pointing it out.

Stephen pulled off his helmet to wipe his face. "Sevause?!" Gawain said in shock upon seeing him. He couldn't identify the one with Stephen, or the one that had come with Brandelis, but if the two mystery knights weren't of the school then they were probably two of his father's men or Arthur's.

"Y' thought we'd leave ye t' that monster?" Servause replied, smiling at Gawain and Brandelis before putting back on the helmet.

"We're trying to figure out why it was you in particular who came," Brandelis replied.

"Because I knew what would happen t' ye here. I couldn't let what happened t' Selices happen to Gawain or keep happenin' to you, Brandelis. So I asked t' come because I couldn't stay back doin' nothin'. In retrospect it probably would've been smart t' bring along Lamorak and Palamedes too," Servause replied.

"Third and fourth place in the school," Brandelis confirmed, grimacing. He still couldn't believe it himself, at least not with Lamorak. Palamedes was kind of a given, given the Saracen reputation for churning out some of the finest warriors you'd ever see.

Stephen nodded. "Whoa!" Lancelot suddenly shouted out, throwing out his arms and stopping the others. They slid to a stop and gasped as arrows pierced the rope bridge's, well, ropes, and collapsed it!

"Dammit!" Brandelis shouted angrily. He looked quickly up and gasped, paling. "Dad," he said numbly. The others looked back and sure enough saw Brian standing on a battalion with two other men at his side. Caradoc and Turquine! And all three of them had bows. "No, this can't be happening, it can't be happening," Brandelis fearfully said, shaking his head in denial.

"It isn't," Stephen replied, picking up a javelin laying next to a skeleton in the rubble. He took up a long length of rope and bound one end tightly around a nearby ruined pillar then tied the other end onto the javelin, hooking it so it wouldn't pull off.

"That javelin isn't going to hold our combined weight!" Lancelot protested immediately.

"It won't have t'," Servause replied. He took aim at the ridge, muttered a prayer under his breath to who knew which deity, and threw with all his might. The javelin soared through the air, crossing the chasm, and landed behind two great big boulders, the rope falling into the space between them. Stephen pulled hard and the javelin moved but caught on the rocks and lodged there. He grinned victoriously and tightened the rope that was around the pillar swiftly.

"The rope can't hold our combined weight!" Lancelot protested.

"Course it can," Stephen replied. They stared at him dubiously, but there wasn't much time to question. Arrows began flying and they heard men running towards them. They gasped, looking back.

"Screw it, I'm gone," Gareth said, quickly grabbing the rope and starting to move hand over hand across it. He grimaced at the strain. Oh, he should have ditched the armor he dryly noted. Servause frowned, noticing the boy's straining, and followed in pursuit just in case Gareth couldn't make this climb and dropped. At least then Gareth would have _something_ of a chance if Stephen managed to catch him before he fell.

"Come on, we don't have anymore opportunities coming our way," Lancelot agreed, quickly following. Brandelis grimaced and started after him quickly. Gawain went last.

They moved steadily across the rope despite the arrows flying at them. They had a very short window of opportunity here if they were going to make it before the ropes were cut by the footsoldiers when they arrived and found it. Brandelis looked down at the lava dully, silent. He began to slow down as he stared. "Keep going, Bran. This isn't the time to get distracted!" Gawain insisted. Brandelis had stopped, though, just staring at the lava. "Bran, what's the matter? Hurry. We're running out of time!" Bran was quiet, watching. He looked back towards Dolorous Guard at his scowling father who watched murderously. He was through hoping he could ever escape… He could never get away… He didn't want to go back. He couldn't ever go back! But… but the only way to make certain that happened… He looked down again. Gawain, puzzled at first, began to catch on, eyes slowly widening in horror. Uh oh… "No," he said quickly. "Don't do it, Bran. Don't you dare do…" Brandelis drew a sharp and deep breath, letting go of the rope. "Bran!" Gawain shouted. He reached out, catching the other's hand, and cried out in alarm as he lost his grip on the rope, falling too!

"Gawain!" Lancelot cried out. He yelped, nearly letting go of the rope himself, when Gawain's quick reflexes led the crown prince to catch his ankle and cling on for dear life, almost taking Lancelot down too. "Help!" Lancelot cried out. He could manage this weight for a grand total of maybe a three minutes, or two, and that was working off pure adrenaline and little more. He heard the others curse and looked over with a gasp. Quickly Gareth and Servause were returning. They reached him in record time.

"It's okay. We have ye. Y' can let go if you really, really need t'," Stephen said as both he and Gareth wrapped their legs around Lancelot's body. Lancelot nodded frantically but hung on tight. Slowly Gareth and Servause began to uncomfortably and awkwardly make their way back across the ropes again, Lancelot helping as well to move with the other two. It was risky, but they couldn't stay in one spot because if they did they were sitting ducks.

Bran, after getting over the initial and total shock that this had actually happened, freaked. "Are you crazy?" he screamed at them. "You could have gotten yourselves killed!"

"You're the crazy one for letting go, you total moron!" a ticked and terrified Gareth shouted angrily. He didn't disguise his voice, but that was fine because Gawain was probably too preoccupied right now to notice.

"Gawain, let me go! You can't hold me up like this much longer!" Brandelis insisted.

"No," Gawain said through gritted teeth, eyes screwed tightly shut as he strained to hold himself and Bran both up.

"I'm not going back there! I can't!" Brandelis begged.

"You won't, dammit, you won't!" Gawain desperately pled. "Bran, please! Let us help you! Let us at least _try_! Don't do this! Don't do this! We can't promise you'll be safe forever, we know that, but we can promise we'll bend heaven and earth to keep you away from him just hang on! Just hang on," he begged.

"Bran, Gawain can't keep this up and he's like an eagle with a fish. He's not going to let you go. If _you_ fall, _he_ falls. We get you're willing to do this to yourself, okay? Gods know the sort of hell your life has been under that psycho freak who calls himself a man. Are you willing to take _him_ with you, though?" Lancelot challenged.

"I'm not letting go, damn you! I'm not letting go," Gawain confirmed.

Brandelis stared up at them, lips parted in awe and disbelief. They wouldn't let go… They were moving along centimeter by centimeter at a snail's pace trying to get him to the other side alive. They weren't going to give up. Even at personal detriment, even at risk of their own lives, they weren't giving up… Tears threatened his eyes and he swallowed, looking down again. He winced, closing his eyes tightly and gritting his teeth. "Okay!" he said. He wrapped an arm around Gawain's waist. Gawain hesitantly let go, honestly afraid Brandelis would take the opportunity to end it, but he didn't. He held on tight with the other arm now too, giving Gawain the chance to cling to Lancelot with both hands, which was an immense relief.

"He can't climb up me," Gawain said, gasping. "I barely have the strength for _this_!"

"Hold on. I'll help with that," Gareth said, looking at Servause. Servause nodded in understanding. Gareth unwrapped his legs from Lancelot and grimaced, looking down and hoping he didn't regret this. Piece by piece he began to kick off parts of his armor to make himself lighter and give himself a better chance of actually pulling this off. He swallowed then moved around Lancelot so he could seize Stephen tightly, letting go of the rope and gasping a bit, hoping that Stephen could keep him up. Stephen reluctantly unwrapped his legs from Lancelot so Gareth could climb down him, hoping Lance's adrenaline would give the guy enough strength to hold Gawain and Brandelis up a little longer on his own. Gareth knew he had to move fast. Gareth climbed down Stephen's body. Brandelis grabbed onto Gareth's legs. Gareth was _so_ glad Brandelis wasn't heavily built, and that Servause had wrapped his legs around him, because if he hadn't, Gareth would definitely be falling about now. Brandelis began to climb up Gareth while Gawain climbed quickly up Lancelot, reaching the rope and looking immensely relieved.

Quickly Lancelot, Gawain, Servause, and Brandelis climbed their way awkwardly onward. Gareth started to cautiously climb back up Servause, hating he was suddenly in the back but also relieved that everyone was on track again. Gawain allowed Servause to pass him by - something about the other armored knight had him unsettled and a bit concerned - before following. They made it to safety one by one. Brandelis, Lancelot, Stephen, Gawain, and Gareth. Rather, they almost made it to safety. Just as Gawain was about to reach the edge, the rope was cut from the other side and he and Gareth cried out in terror as they dropped and swung into the cliff!

"Guys!" Lancelot cried out, diving for the edge and reaching over, seizing Gawain's hand. He saw the surprise and suspicion in Gawain's eyes and cursed the fact he hadn't disguised his voice. He hoped it was only a suspicion and Gawain hadn't figured out who he was for sure just yet. If he had, he hoped the other kept quiet about it. He, like Gareth, was kind of inclined to keep his identity secret.

Lancelot hauled his friend up. Gareth, numbed by fear, stared down in horror at the lava. Lancelot and Gawain quickly moved to pull him up. Gareth reached for the edge, seizing it and trying to pull himself up, kicking off whatever remaining parts of the heavy armor he could. Never again, he promised himself. Only light from here on. At least lighter metal. He pulled himself up and grabbed his helmet, throwing it off and gasping for air as he started to panick. He didn't even care anymore that Gawain would realize who he was. He just wanted to breathe!

"Oh my god!" Gawain exclaimed. Okay, _now_ Gareth regretted taking off the helmet.

Gareth winced and looked sheepishly and awkwardly over at his utterly horrified brother. "Uh… s'up bro?" he lamely said, forcing an innocent grin.

"What the hell are you doing here?! What the hell were you thinking?! You're so _dead_! Dad is going to have your head you little crap!" Gawain freaked. "Are you crazy?!"

"Oh cut me a break. It's not like Gaheris and Agravaine were volunteering to come!" Gareth argued, folding his arms over his chest in annoyance, rolling his eyes. Dad's so busy ripping the teachers a new one he didn't even realize you were gone. It was mom who ended up sending for help."

Gawain was quiet. Gareth winced, realizing the slip, and looked sheepishly over. "Mom?" Gawain finally asked, looking somehow both exhausted but also… hopeful, maybe?

Gareth shifted and bowed his head. "Yeah. It was a once in a blue moon miracle, but yeah. She was the one who requested help. I mean not from me, I kind of joined up solo, but still."

"You can talk and chastise and argue and embrace later, boys. Right now, we have to go," Lancelot said, standing up and starting to climb up the ridge. "We got away safe this time, but Brian obviously has a way to get out of Dolorous Guard despite the lava lake, so we're limited here. While the going's still good, let's get…" He heard weapons being drawn and gasped, looking up. "Going," he squeaked as he found himself gaping up at a whole lineup of knights standing all along the ridge surrounding them, each one with a weapon at the ready. He gasped, sliding back down, and quickly backed away from them towards the others. Servause quickly moved to join him in the front, frightened and nervous but willing to fight if he had to. Both drew their own weapons uneasily. Gawain and Gareth subtly placed themselves between the lava lake and Brandelis, the guy most likely to choose to throw himself into it before choosing to go back to Dolorous Guard alive. That little fact didn't escape Brandelis either. He was torn between being deeply touched by the gesture and deeply upset.

"I knew it was too much to hope," Brandelis whispered, staring numbly up at the men. Stephen was eerily silent. The men began to advance in sync. The boys backed up until they couldn't go any farther, then huddled nervously together staring.

Suddenly there were cries of anguish and alarm from behind the advancing knights! They turned quickly and hardly had time to cry out in fear before men in the armor of Orkney and Lothian leapt over the ridge, cutting them down with a vengeance either on foot or by horse. Leading the onslaught was none other than… "Dad," Gareth gasped in fear. Oh shi…

Lot fought his way viciously over the ridge and leapt the rest of the way down, dropping into a crouch on the boys' level and sharply looking up, eyes narrowed. He started and rose quickly, looking pale. "Gareth, Gawain!" he exclaimed.

Meanwhile…

Brian gaped in shock and disbelief as the group of boys made their way across the ropes, even after Brandelis had tried to escape through death. They wouldn't let one another go and kept fighting to move on, and it was shocking enough that literally all three of them could only stand there and gawk like they couldn't even process what they were seeing. Brian, of course, was the first to snap out of the disbelief when the boys reoriented themselves again. "Get down there and cut the rope!" he shouted at the footsoldiers below. They moved quickly to obey and did so, almost knocking off two of them, but of course the lucky little bastards managed to escape _that_ fate as well and make it to the other side. Brian wasn't concerned, though. He knew what awaited them there. When his men lined up on the ridge, he smirked wickedly thinking he'd won himself a treasure trove. Then Lot arrived, taking out those men without mercy, eyes blazing.

Brian scowled murderously. He should have let Turquine utterly ravage and break the man's little prince when he'd had the chance. He despised Lot and woudn't half mind watching the king be ravaged and broken in front of his eyes, but it would hurt Lot so much more to break his children. Until Lot's little brats were in his clutches, though, he had other options for hurting and devastating the king of Orkney. The man's two little princes had such perfect targets painted on their backs…

"Poison your arrows and shoot the princes of Orkney dead," he darkly said to Caradoc and Turquine. They darkly chuckled and moved to obey, applying the poison and taking aim. Lot had made the scene now and was looking towards his little boys so frantic to hold them… "Fire," Brian shouted, pointing. And they did. Unfortunately for them…

KAK

"Dad!" Gawain and Gareth exclaimed, immediately breaking for their father. Right on cue a knight that had been sticking tight to Lot's side moved to take their places, deducing why they'd been making themselves a barrier between Brandelis and the lava lake. That knight planted himself just in time for the arrows to be let loose. One flew wide, missing completely but startling the knight. Said knight wasn't so lucky with the second, though. Having removed a good portion of his armor to make it lighter—all of it, in fact, except the helmet, gauntlets, and boots—he didn't have even half the protection he should have. He screamed in anguish—a sound that chilled all of them to the bone—as the arrow pierced his back, knocking him down.

"Lamorak!" Lot exclaimed in alarm.

"What?!" the rest of the boys freaked, going pale and looking sick at the exclamation.

The until-then-unknown knight gasped. "I'm okay," he said. "It-it didn't go deep. It-it didn't… it didn't…" Lamorak trailed off, wavering a bit.

Gawain frowned in concern before his eyes widened in realization and horror. Slurring words, dizziness… "He's been poisoned!" he exclaimed in to the others.

Lot, gaping in horror—he'd realized effective immediately who those arrows had actually been meant for—instantly sprang into action. "Oh hell no! I am _not_ going back to Pellinore after lecturing him for three hours about not being able to keep my boys safe, only to tell him I couldn't keep _his_ boy safe! You _will_ not die you little bastard Lamorak!" Okay, so it was semi-action. "Gawain, get your healing herbs from my horse and pack him! We aren't setting foot in Far Far Away until he's recovered so totally that Pellinore won't even see a mark on him!"

"Wow. _That's_ a selfish reason," Brandelis said.

"Oh don't worry, I like the boy too," Lot said, brushing the remark off. "In fact, I would have preferred Gawain to buddy up with Lamorak and his brothers over your little jousting plague."

"Hey!" Brandelis protested, offended. Lot moved quickly to Lamorak, picking him up in his arms. Gawain ran to get his healing herbs and salves and whatnot. Lot turned, glaring darkly and murderously back at Dolorous Guard and the three men high on the parapets who stood there scowling murderously.

"I'll be back for you!" Lot shouted out to them. "You can be sure of it!"

"We'll be waiting! Hopefully with a sweet little surprise for you as well," Brian not-so-subtly threatened. Lot wanted to draw a bow and shoot him dead there and then, but right now Lamorak was the priority. Lamorak and getting the boys' little rescue party to safety. He marched back towards the ridge, calling off his men from Brian's and ordering prisoners to be taken. Gawain fell in step a little way behind his father. His brother and the unknown knight—Gawain had a pretty good suspicion as to who it was—moved to his side.

"Who are you?" Gawain asked the unknown knight, looking over at him.

"Dude, were those freaks about to…" the rescuer, obviously flustered at everything that had happened, began.

"Molest me? Yeah. Nice timing," Gawain replied.

"How are you so calm?!" the warrior demanded.

"Keeping calm is better than panicking," Gawain replied. "Now who are you?"

"Just-just call me the Proud Warrior of the Lake," Lancelot replied, getting a hold of himself again. That freak had been… Wow… He'd barely even realized creeps like that _lived_ around these parts until crossing Caradoc, Turquine, and Brian.

Gawain nodded. The Proud Warrior of the Lake… It all but confirmed his suspicion, but he stayed silent anyway not wanting to leap to conclusions. "Thank you. All of you," he said. "Did… did my mother…?"

"Pick me? Yeah… Ar… The king suggested it," Lancelot said. That was honestly more surprising to Gawain than almost everything else thus far had been.

"Seriously? He asked for you specifically?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Well at least _he's_ building bridges." Lancelot gave Gawain a sharp glare out the corner of his eyes but stayed silent, not snapping up the bait despite really, really wanting to. Finally they could take some time to breathe. He wasn't ruining it by getting into an unnecessary argument.


	18. In Duloq

In Duloq

Lot rode them all night at a gallop, only slowing to a walk when the horses couldn't be pushed any further. He held Lamorak firmly in front of him looking annoyed but also worried. He'd let loose on Gawain and Gareth for pulling a 'stupid stunt like this' and had demanded in a more-than-a-little-angry tone why they had thought to take the task on themselves instead of getting professionals on the case. To which Gareth had snarkily replied that Lot had been too busy with politics and lecturing to even notice, which resulted in his being grounded until further notice and a silent treatment from his father who really hadn't spoken to anyone since unless it was to give an order. Gareth, needless to say, felt like crap, but too little too late.

He rode them all the way to Duloq, dismounted, got Lamorak promptly to the castle, and called in the best healer in the town. Now they were all sitting there waiting around Lamorak's bed as the healer worked. Gareth had tried to apologize to his father once, but it had resulted in his being threatened to be taken over the man's knee if he 'opened his trap' again. Lot then proceded to fuss over the poisoned boy as if he was one of his own, and gradually everyone left the room to rest except Brandelis.

Brandelis watched, confused as to why Lot was so focused on Lamorak. He was hovering like he had with Agravaine, and that made no sense to Bran because why should he? "Why are you doing that?" he asked the King. "Nursing him, that is. He isn't yours."

"Because if mine and Pellinore's positions were reversed, I would want him to do no less for my own boys," Lot answered. "It's a dad thing." The man paused, blinking and reviewing his wording. He grimaced and turned to Brandelis. "It should be," he corrected. It wasn't like that for everyone, obviously. Bran was looking sadly down. Lot shifted and sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. Brandelis was quiet. Lot watched him. "You never had a father, Bran," he soon said, trying to find a way to make the boy feel better. He felt like he'd just made it worse with those words, but no backing out now. "In no sense of the words was Brian of the Isles a parent."

"Then I'm an orphan… And I'm not sure what's worse…" Bran quietly said, voice wavering a little. Lot was quiet, observing and waiting. It seemed like Brandelis was on the verge of opening up. If he was, Lot didn't want to do anything to jeopardize it. "I mean, people like to say that sometimes having no father is better than having one, but they usually have a mom in the picture at least, or a guardian or a parent figure or _something_! Someone's there. Someone's-someone's always there… No one's there for me… At least-at least as things are I have _somebody_ …" the boy said, voice breaking. He sniffed and frustratedly wiped at his burning eyes.

Lot listened quietly and loathed Brian all the more. He ground his teeth, half wanting to ride right back there, attack Dolorous Guard, and cut the man's head off to stick on a pike as a trophy. He willed himself to keep an even temper, drew a deep breath, and said, "Someone always was, Brandelis. Men infinite times better than your father with infinite times the honor."

"You mean the teachers, I know, but I can't… This isn't something you just unload on them! And I know it's kind of Bors' job and everything, him and Petipace and Pellinore are like the only ones who even knew until a couple days ago, but-but a listening ear isn't enough! It just, it isn't enough! I want… I don't even know _what_ I want…" Bran said, in tears now.

Lot was quiet. "Someone permanent," he finally said in a murmur. "Someone personal and there just for you…" A parent. He wanted a parent. He wanted a _family_ … But not everyone got that wish now, did they? Lot shifted and bowed his head, closing his eyes and sighing through the nose. He approached Bran and sat next to him. Bran looked meekly over, then down again. "I can help you find that," Lot finally said. He usually never, ever, ever made promises like that, ever, but… but this time… Well what else was he supposed to _do_? He had two adoptees under his care already. What was a third, if need be? Ideally he'd find someone else who could devote their time to Bran and Bran alone—with Mordred and Loholt and all his other children his own time would be severely limited—but he'd do if no one else would.

"How?" Bran asked.

"Just… trust me, alright?" Lot said with a tired sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose. Brandelis shook his head. He didn't know if he _could_ truly trust anymore. "Hey," Lot said, gently nudging him. He looked over. "You'll be alright. I'll make sure of it." Bran looked down but soon tentatively and uncertainly nodded his head. "Okay… Now you need to go get some rest, alright?" Lot said. Bran nodded again, looked almost like he wanted to hug him, then seemed to be scared away from the concept. Lot couldn't blame him for that, honestly. He would try, then, for a middle ground. He placed a hand on Bran's shoulder and gently rubbed it before patting reassuringly and gently. Bran offered a tiny but existent smile and rose, leaving quickly.

Lot watched after him, sighed again, and turned attention back to Lamorak. His thoughts drifted to Gareth and he winced a bit. Maybe he was being unfair to his boy. Come morning, he would try and remedy that. What if by morning Gareth was lying awake still worrying about whether his father still loved him, though? It wasn't like that fear wasn't founded in anything. It had happened with their mother, they rationed… He hated Anna for her neglect of her children… It hadn't always been that way… Glimpses came through of the old her every so often, like her asking Arthur to help with saving Gawain, but it was hard to tell what was real with her and what wasn't these days. He clenched his jaw then sighed, rising to find his boy.

KAK

Of course Gareth wasn't in the room he was sharing with Gawain, which resulted in a near heart-attack for Lot who immediately began to question every soul he saw about whether they'd seen his son slipping away or something. Finally, he got results from the castle cook who said they'd spotted him slipping out the kitchen door into the courtyard. Lot followed up on the lead immediately, walking out of the castle and scanning said courtyard for his son. He saw him not far, perched on a wall looking out over the town. Lot approached quietly. "Gareth," he said firmly. Gareth winced but didn't turn. "Why aren't you in bed?" Lot pressed, coming up alongside him. Gareth looked at him seeming confused; like he wondered why his father was talking to him or bothering with him again like nothing had happened. He seemed almost unsure whether he should answer or not. Lot tilted his head but didn't push, just leaned on the wall and followed his son's eyes out over the town.

Gareth sat there, still and feeling an uncomfortable burning sensation in his eyes that he hated with a passion. He felt vulnerable. He felt like he was a little child again. Like he wanted his mother's love and attention so badly but couldn't get it, no matter what he tried… One day she was there and the next she was gone it had seemed… It had been building a long time he knew now, but back then he hadn't realized it. Every 'mom' ignored, every 'I love you' met with a 'that's sweet' or an 'I know'. He wasn't even a very affectionate guy, but come on! I mean… could it have killed her to say it back just once…? She used to… Before they'd lost her… And now he was losing dad too… Was it his fault, he wondered? For not talking or not trying or not letting his parents know what he wanted or needed at any given time? He'd stopped because he'd thought that had been what drove mom away, and then it was just hard to get back into it again even when dad tried so hard to get him to… Or used to try… He wouldn't try anymore, probably…

Lot hated not knowing what to say to his son. He hated not knowing how to communicate with him. It had become unfairly difficult when they'd hit their teens… Even before it had been becoming so… Maybe it was because of him as much as it was because of Morgause… He was always busy with the kingdom, holding court or dealing with politics or judging crimes or making political allies and everything else that came with the job. He'd kind of shoved them off on their mother more often than not, and he hadn't even noticed when they began to change or when she'd gotten cold, and he hadn't seen it or even recognized it for goodness knew how long… When he finally clued in and started to press, it felt like he was too late… What was he supposed to do now? Well, if his son wouldn't open up to _him_ , then maybe _he_ should talk to his _son_. Try and draw him out. But what even could be said? Maybe… maybe just the simplest of things. The most basic of reassurances…

"I still love you, Gareth," he managed to make himself say finally, which wasn't easy because his own parents had never been overly affectionate, so such sentiments, while easy to respond to for him, weren't easy to initiate and say out loud. It came easier with Mordred and Loholt because they were so little and they needed it so much, but with his older children it got harder. Gareth closed in on himself a bit more like he didn't know whether to believe it or not. "Your remark hurt my feelings and I got angry. That's what people do. But just because you offended me doesn't mean I stopped loving you." He looked up at his son. "You and your brothers and sister mean _everything_ to me. And no matter how angry I seem to get, or how upset I am with you, I will still love you. I'll _always_ love you." Gareth sniffed, looking at him, then bent down quickly, hugging him tightly. Lot held his son back and pulled him off the wall. Gareth clung on, refusing to let go. Lot gently combed his fingers through the boy's hair. "You need to get some sleep, son. Tomorrow, if Lamorak is stable, we're going to head back to Far Far Away. You'll need your strength and energy for that," Lot murmured gently.

Shouting was heard suddenly from the watchtowers. Lot frowned and looked over. Gareth looked over too, puzzled. "What's happening?" the boy asked.

"I don't know," Lot replied. He marched towards the high defensive walls and hurried up the stairs to stand on the parapet and see. Looking out towards the fields, his lips slowly parted in disbelief. Gareth raced up, joining him, and gasped. A bonfire lit up the sky. In the shadows he saw a large number of men, and at the forefront one in particular. Brian of the Isles! Lot glared at him darkly, eyes reflecting the blazing fire and somehow becoming even more intense than the flames that shone in them. "Give me a reason to come down there and kill you!" he roared out to Brian.

"Should I move against you before you move against me, King of Lothian and Orkney, I will take you and your sons and daughter prisoner and enslave you, and I'll let you watch every time my 'friends' feel the need for your childrens' company," Brian replied, taking the challenge

Lot very nearly leapt off the wall, but Gareth caught his arm. "Dad, don't, he'll kill you!" he pled, pulling his father back. "If we're your one reason to go kill him, then let us also be your one reason to not!" Gareth pled. "We need you alive more than we need you dead! Please!"

Lot scowled murderously at Brian but stopped trying to go at him. He pulled free of Gareth's hands and wrapped his arm firmly and protectively around the boy's shoulders. "Ride against me, Brian. Right now. I dare you!" he called out.

"We came to leave a message, not fight a battle," Brian replied. With that he took a flaming piece of wood from the fire and threw it into the fields of wheat and vegetables and flowers. His men followed suite. Immediately the fields flared up and began to burn brilliantly, quickly spreading. Lot's mouth dropped in disbelief. "You're in the sights of Dolorous Guard and the Dolorous Tower now! Pray you're ready for them!" Brian shouted out. Turning, he rode quickly away with his men as Lot, fuming and shaking in rage, clung tightly to his son. He knew the game. If he ordered men down to fight the fire there would be chaos and Brian and his men would probably take the opportunity to kidnap either some of his soldiers, or make their way into the town and kidnap some of the people. That was a price he wasn't willing to pay. He could forsake the fields, until they came too close to the walls. It would drastically cut their food supply, but Orkney was in relative plenty and so were many lands of his allies. The rest of Lothian wasn't at its best, no, but it was well enough off to give a little aid. Duloq could depend on the kingdom's help, and the help of allied districts, to fend off famine this year.

"Dad, the fields!" Gareth exclaimed, pointing.

"Let them burn," Lot replied. "Fields are replacable. Men aren't." Gareth bristeled and looked uneasily out over the burning fields. Lot looked over at his General. "No one goes out to try and save the fields. If they do, it may be the last taste of freedom they ever have. Make sure not a soul steps outside these walls." The General nodded nervously, saluting. Lot nodded back and quickly guided Gareth back to the palace and inside once again. "Everything's going to be okay," he told his obviously distressed son. "Sleep, darling. I need to tend Lamorak. If you need me, you know where I'll be. I love you."

"I love you too," Gareth quietly said, head bowed. He entered his room without a word more and Lot continued to Lamorak's, expression dark. Brian was making a very, very, _very_ bad enemy in him.

KAK

Come morning Lamorak wasn't dead, which was a good sign. The boy had begun to show signs of improving come early morning, much to his friends' relief. They half expected Lot's first words to him to be ordering him to breathe no word of this to Pellinore, but they were wrong. Lamorak's eyes flickered exhaustedly open and he whimpered a bit, shifing. "Easy, boy. Take it easy. You're alright now," Lot said, reaching out and sqeezing Lamorak's hand groundingly. Lamorak blinked confusedly at him then seemed to remember, becoming concerned. "Everyone's alright," Lot said before Lamorak could ask. "You were the only near-casualty. How are you feeling?"

"Like my back is on fire," Lamorak replied, grimacing.

"You stopped quoting songs as your dialect?" Lot said, raising an eyebrow.

"No!" Lamorak quickly said. "Um, n-not completely."

Lot shrugged it off. "What about pain?" he asked. "Nausea?"

"Dizzy. I'm so dizzy my head is spinning. Like a whirlpool it never ends," Lamorak sang. Lot went immediately back to looking unimpressed, glaring at the boy with arms folded. Lamorak sheepishly grinned at him, shrugging.

"Dare I ask about the pain again?" Lot asked.

Lamorak looked like he was trying to resist answering in song, but he failed. "Pain, pain without love, pain, pain I…"

"Enough!" Lot shot. He heard the other boys snickering and shot them a dirty scowl that shut them immediately up. He turned back to Lamorak.

"How did you guess the next word?" Lamorak asked. Well, kind of next word. It was in the next phrase at least.

"Just. Answer," Lot said.

"Aside from feeling like I'm on fire? I feel cramped, but-but a pain killer should help that your majesty," Lamorak said. Or alcohol, he wryly added to himself. Which he really, really wanted right about now. He sniffed the air and frowned, smelling smoke. He sat carefully up and looked out the window only to gasp, eyes widening as he saw the destroyed fields and the fearful farmers and citizens lamenting them and picking through what remained for anything that was still useable.

Lot looked towards the window as well and his sour mood increased. "Don't. Ask," he flatly said. He'd gotten into a blow up as to how to handle the matter with Gawain already. He didn't need further input from know-it-all teenage princes who figured they had the world pegged when they didn't have the faintest clue… Maybe a faint one. That was certainly less faint after _this_ disaster… That wasn't the point!

"Did… did he try to take them back?" Lamorak worriedly asked, sounding deeply concerned as he looked over at Bran and Gawain, both of whom tensed up and looked out the windows nervously as if expecting a return at any moment now.

"No. He didn't," Lot replied. "If he'd taken one step closer to Duloq I would have ordered he and his massacred."

Lamorak shifted, plucking at the blanket. "What if… if they were like Brandelis and Selices too? His men?" he asked.

Lot was quiet. He looked back at the others, whose heads were now bowed, and at Bran who had his eyes shut tightly. He shifted uncomfortably. It seemed that 'faint clue' he'd remarked about was far, far less faint in these boys now than it had any right to be… He didn't even _know_ how he could begin to answer that. The truth was that if once they had been victims, they had become victimizers long ago. It probably wasn't only Brian's 'friends' who hurt Brandelis, just as it probably hadn't been only Caradoc and Turquine who hurt Selices. That wasn't something he was about to explain to the boy at this moment though. "I'll order them captured instead of killed, if they come again," he finally settled on saying, turning back to Lamorak. It was the best he could do. But Brian was beyond that extension of mercy. Lamorak seemed pacified by that and nodded. "Rest a little longer. When you're feeling well enough to travel, we'll head back to your father and Far Far Away." Lamorak again nodded and laid back down. Lot moved out of the way to allow the others to approach their schoolmate or friend or whatever they were at this point.

"Are y' okay?" Stephen asked gently. Lamorak opened an eye and smiled tiredly, nodding. He closed the eye again.

"You… You scared us, Rak," Gawain said. "I'm sorry. That arrow wasn't even _meant_ for you." It had been meant for him.

"Better it struck me than you," Lamorak replied, opening his eyes and frowning at Gawain, hoping the other wasn't going to start beating himself up over this.

"Yeah? I was the one with the armor," Gawain said, looking down a bit guiltily.

" _He's_ the one who might have elven blood in him that kept him alive," Lancelot, still hiding his identity, piped up.

Lamorak started, looking at him a bit surprised at the remark, then seemed a bit uncertain. He guessed given his father's Dinadan-esque reputation it was possible that his mother hadn't actually been his mother, but he'd never honestly seriously thought about that likelihood at all. "Why do you say that? About possible elfin blood?" he asked.

"The grace with which you move isn't exactly common in mortals," Lancelot replied. "And your weight is less than it should be for a pure-blooded human your age and build. Your build itself is a hint to elfin blood somewhere in your blood-line. Almost all your other brothers are much more muscularly built than you too, except Percival." Which could be chalked up to young age. "You have a very slender and lithe look and an unexpected elegance to your step."

"And as awkward and Dinadan-esque as this will sound, you're totally gorgeous," Gawain teased.

Lamorak raised an eyebrow then shrugged. Hey, the guy wasn't wrong. "I'd rather not learn anymore about my father's licentious ways than I have to endure already," he flatly said. He didn't even want to _imagine_ his dad's exploits, thank you very much.

"Alright, time to leave. All of you. Unless you intend to be quiet now and let him sleep a little longer," Lot said. They boys fell silent. Lot nodded. "Very well. I have paperwork to do, letters to write, incident reports to file… When he wakes up, come find me and we'll leave for Far Far Away." They nodded. Lot nodded back then turned, leaving them alone witih Lamorak. Lamorak lay back down again and closed his eyes, soon falling asleep with the others gathered around him and watching over him.

KAK

Upon their return to Far Far Away, in accordance with the unknown knight's wishes 'The Proud Warrior of the Lake' was what Gawain repeated about the mystery knight—seriously, who was Lance kidding? They all knew who 'The Proud Warrior of the Lake' was, or at least the rescue party and the rescuee did if no one else—as he told the story of his rescue and kidnapping to his family and schoolmates, all of which listened in mortification to the tale. Soon he, along with the others, finished telling it. "Needless to say, Duloq is in for a rough winter if help isn't obtained for them," Lot said, adding a bit to the end. This was a serious matter he needed to talk over with fellow kings, neutral or friend.

"Is Lothian not equipped to take care of its own?" Bagdemagus asked.

"To a degree yes, but Lothian hasn't had an overly productive year," Lot replied. "I'm not asking for much. Orkney has been plentiful and much of Lothian's aid will of course come from them given I'm the king of both lands, but a lot of what I can offer will also be needed for other less plentiful parts of Lothian."

"I'll give you my aid," Galehaut said. The other kings, most of which sympathized with Arthur, would probably be much less open to sharing their bounty with a rebel king looking to kill the boy. After all, the weaker Lot's armies were the worse they'd fare against Arthur and _his_ allies. He was about the _only_ one here Lot could turn to for help. Pellinore probably too, his gratitude to Lot for helping save his son blatantly obvious, but still.

"My thanks," Lot said to Galehaut.

"If you need more, my kingdom has a surplus. But only if you certainly need more," Pellinore said, plying for neutral ground in this regard. Lot nodded.

"Yeah, great, Duloq lives on, now what about this 'Proud Warrior of the Lake'?" Arthur said, obviously more entranced with the adventure of the whole thing over the political aspect. The other boys seemed to be of like-mind, for the most part.

"Why the sudden interest?" Kay asked.

"Because I want to meet him? Bonus points if I can convince him to hold audience with me. Far Far Away needs knights that are worth their salt. The handful I have isn't enough to shape the rest of them up, but if this lake warrior is as good as you're all saying, he's definitely going to be an asset if I can convince him to take a high-ranking position in the army."

"What about us?" Lamorak asked, a bit indignant.

" _You_ get to stay in school until you've properly graduated," Pellinore answered for Arthur, frowning warningly at his son. Lamorak looked a bit sheepish, grinning innocently. Right, the others didn't know it was Lancelot. "Maybe then you can set your sights on a knighthood here." Lamorak crossed his arms slightly sulkily, looking away, but then sighed and nodded nonetheless, relenting.

"Whoever this 'Proud Warrior of the Lake' is, it seems he's a better man than Lancelot," Morgause bit. Lancelot who couldn't even be bothered coming to meet Gawain upon his return. Needless to say, Anna deeply begrudged that boy refusing her request to find her son.

"How so?" Gawain asked, confused.

"Lancelot adamantly refused to go for the petty reason it was Arthur who tasked it to him instead of me," Morgause answered.

Gawain raised an eyebrow and was silent. Well, whatever had happened here it didn't ultimately matter, he decided, because Lancelot _had_ come in the end, considering his suspicion was correct. Which it probably was. "I'll find him," he said, looking to Arthur. "Give me the task, and I'll find him for you. At least I'll do my best. I'm eager to know who the unknown rescuer was too. He's the only one I didn't see."

"Yes! Please!" Arthur said. "Do that thing you said!"

"You don't leave Far Far Away," Lot warned seriously. "He'll still be here, no doubt, or not far, but stay behind the walls if it can be helped." He wasn't too alarmed, he'd pieced together who the unknown was by now, but he still wanted it to be very clear to Gawain that he didn't want him putting himself at needless risk again.

"Yes sir," Gawain replied, bowing to his father. He bowed to Arthur as well then left to get ready and make it look like he was seriously questing. Maybe hide his own identity with armor too to give Lance a taste of his own medicine. In not too long, he was off seeking out Lancelot, who hadn't accompanied them inside. Gawain guessed that shame probably played a role in it, now that he knew his friend had initially refused the quest because Arthur's order and all that, which was about as petty as anyone could get. On the other hand, he was kind of glad that Lance at least believed he could handle himself. He could, really! It was just this time that he'd been kidnapped! And the time before… That wasn't the point!

KAK

Gawain did, indeed, find Lancelot still hiding himself in the armor he'd worn for the rescue. Which was fine because Gawain, as established, had disguised _himself_ in armor too, making like he was a generic knight Arthur had sent out to find 'The Proud Warrior of the Lake'. The two of them battled until exhaustion, and upon learning who each other was, or in Gawain's case proving rather than learning, they departed each other's company with their inseparable friendship renewed and their bond repaired once more. Forgiveness given, apologies made, teasing done… It was good to just be able to talk and joke with one another again. Lancelot of course swore Gawain to secrecy, in fact pled, and Gawain agreed to keep the secret for the short while it would probably be kept. Lancelot was grateful, Gawain was relieved, and an hour or two after Gawain returned to the castle with news he'd found the warrior but not learned his identity as of yet—to Arthur's dismay—Lancelot returned, and Arthur forgot about the warrior for the time being, in the wake of the bitter taste Lancelot's presence left in his mouth. Suffice it to say, things went back to normal pretty quick. With exception to a few more students who were highly unimpressed with Lancelot and took to antagonizing him, to Gawain's agony. Seeing Lancelot making himself a 'martyr'? It was the first time Gawain started to realize how truly hard keeping this secret was going to be…


	19. Tensions and Confessions

Tensions and Confessions

(A/N: This is the final chapter of this story. Another is in the workings, but it needs to be almost completely gutted and redone from what it originally was, and I'm seriously lacking motivation for anything right now, so it might take a while to start posting. Apologies in advance for that. Anyway, thank you all for taking the time to read this story. I hope you liked it. Reviews are always welcome and thanks in advance to those who continue to review my stories diligently. And to new reviewers who may review it in future. **WARNING: Heavy and triggering subject matter.** )

"Brian of the Isles has made himself Worcestershire's enemy," Lot stated to his fellow kings. Minus Arthur and Alexander. Lillian was there in Arthur's place, so he guessed it was 'fellow kings and queen'. Alisander didn't really need a representative given the Byzantine Empire was so far from this one. Oh yes, and the rest of the staff who'd been in the Game of Houses was present as well.

"You should have declared him as such long ago," Lillian chastised Pellinore, frowning at him.

"I wasn't the one who decided to play it like he was a neutral or our friend," Pellinore defended. "Forgive me for not having finished fixing all of Pynchley's screw-ups yet." He turned to Lot. "I'm in whole-hearted agreement."

"And if he's Worcestershire's enemy, it means we're no longer required to give Brandelis up to him," Bors said, sounding relieved for that.

"Speaking of... how _dare_ you keep that secret from us!" Meliot snapped viciously. The teachers who'd known but never spoken winced.

"As far as I'm concerned, that boy was an orphan long ago," Lot grimly said. "Which _brings_ me to the next order of business. Bran. He has no father now. He never did."

"Another orphan added to the ranks," Pellinore ruefully said, shaking his head.

"He doesn't have to be," Lot said. "That boy needs someone to be there for him. He has no one else. Bors helps, yes, but that boy needs someone all his own. He wants to feel safe and loved again. Being reduced to the status of waif isn't going to help him get better or start to repair."

"A parental figure. You're suggesting he be fostered and or adopted," Ector said, nodding in understanding.

"Yes," Lot said. "And if no one else takes him I will, but he would be better off being with someone who's whole attention can be on him. Someone who'll always be there near at hand."

"You're suggesting one of _us_ foster him," Carados said. "One of the staff." Lot nodded.

There was silence all around. "I…" Sir Meliot began. He trailed off, hesitating. "I can try," he finally finished. "I all but live on campus as it is, and so does Brandelis, so the change wouldn't be utterly jarring for him like it would be if he were to be shipped off to another kingdom entirely. I… can build up to it. Slowly. It won't be as direct or sudden as telling him I'm going to take him in. It can't be. He needs to develop that sort of bond with me for himself, before he'll be open to something like that I feel."

"You plan to handle him as Petipace is handing Selices," Morholt said, nodding in understanding. "It would be the wisest course for handling Bran."

"Are you quite certain you're up for that sort of challenge and responsibility, good Sir Meliot? Taking in a teenager is no easy task, much less one as… emotionally and mentally scarred as Brandelis must be," Lillian said in concern. She would know.

"I'm _not_ certain I'm up for it," Meliot replied. "But I _am_ certain I won't give up on him, and I _am_ certain I'm the one who'll be able to devote to him the time he'll need, and I _am_ certain that I'm already a favourite teacher of his—I'm fond of him as well—and I _am_ certain that that will be the foundation we'll both need to make this work."

"What if it gets harder for you to handle than you were expecting?" Pellinore asked seriously.

"I signed up for this, and I won't let go," Meliot replied. "I'm not going to turn him out or hand him to another because things become difficult or dangerous. I'm not afraid of what he can do or what he thinks he can do, because I can do better. And I've always liked a challenge anyway." To be plopped into a foster setting might be too much for the boy to handle, but this gradually building up to it plan of his could very well be workable. Yes… Yes, he was ready to handle Brandelis. "I know I won't be alone, if things get hard. I'm quite sure I'm not the only one who's had to deal with troubled children, be they foster or adopted or blood."

"No. You most definitely aren't," Bors said, smiling approvingly. Meliot could do it, he felt. Meliot could actually do it. If _anyone_ could it would be him. He knew that look in the man's eyes. Meliot didn't express much in words or body language, but if you knew where to look to read his eyes and his face, you could see the true depths of his emotion on the matters being discussed… And gods was this man emotional and indignant over this… "I know you can make this work, Meliot. If you ever need help, we'll be there."

Meliot nodded and drew a slightly shaking breath, which gave away just how effected he was by this whole conversation and story and task he'd laid out for himself. He massaged his temples, shaking his head. "This should have been done years ago," he grimly said. He should have _known_ years ago. The teachers and monarchs were quiet. All of them knew all too well just how very true Meliot's words were…

KAK

Brandelis sat on a parapet of the castle looking down at the ground far below. Part of him wanted to jump off just to be certain he didn't live long enough to inevitably be dragged back to the Dolorous Tower. He knew it was only a matter of time, it always was. He tried to hope, but hope became harder and harder each time it failed him. He heard footsteps approaching him from behind, which meant his window of opportunity to jump was gone. He almost shivered in fear before realizing there was no way it could be his father. He didn't turn to see who it was. The person camed up to him and leaned on the parapet next to him. He glanced briefly over. Sir Meliot, he realized. His heart clenched uncomortably in his chest. The man was probably disgusted at him. He didn't see how anyone _couldn't_ be. Well, he could, every part of him that was rational could at least, but the more emotional part of him couldn't wrap its head around that fact because feelings. Screw feelings.

"You're a hero you know," Meliot said.

Brandelis raised an eyebrow and looked over. That… wasn't expected. He'd imagined some lame attempt at small-talk in an effort to normalize things. Maybe he could have seen the guy asking a stupid question like if he was okay or how he was doing or something. 'You're a hero' came totally out of nowhere for Brandelis. "Huh?" he said in response, confused.

"If not for you, Gawain wouldn't be coming back to us in one piece. Without you, I'd be surprised if his reckless little rescue party would have made it out at _all_ ," Meliot said.

"I was one guy in a group. I made no difference," Bran said.

"One person can make all the difference in the world," Meliot replied. "Look at some of the historic knights you've been learning of, who took out sometimes hundres of enemies that otherwise would have killed many, many more in their paths if they hadn't been stopped. Or think of strategists who even if they didn't fight saved hundreds of lives with their planning."

"Sir Meliot, I don't wanna learn in my free time," Bran all but whined.

Meliot chuckled. "I'm just saying. You made a difference. A big one. Gawain will be grateful to you the rest of his life. The others? They're glad you were there to help them fight their way out. You saved lives, Bran," he said.

"At what cost?" Bran quietly said.

Meliot was quiet. "An unacceptable one," he finally said.

Brandelis was quiet, letting the remark sink in. "Am I an unacceptable cost?" he asked finally.

"To me. To Gawain. To them… Yes. You're an unacceptable cost, and if I had my say in it you'd never pay that price ever again for the rest of your existence."

"Better me than anyone else. I'm already damaged, I'm already used to it. Gawain didn't need to suffer it too! Not when I could stop it," Bran said.

"Spoken like a true hero," Meliot wryly said, shaking his head. "I wish you weren't."

Bran was quiet, considering this. "You really think I'm a hero?" he asked finally. "I don't feel like one."

"Many times heroes _don't_ feel like they're heroees," Meliot answered.

"A hero shouldn't be the victim," Brandelis said.

"Sometimes the greatest heroes started out as victims," Meliot said. "It gives them the incentive to fight and try all the harder. Being a hero doesn't mean you're untouchable. It doesn't mean you're never afraid. It's being afraid, knowing what it could cost, and helping anyway."

Bran was quiet, staring towards the woods. "I don't want to go back there," he finally said, voice quiet.

"I won't let him take you again," Meliot replied.

"How… how does someone do that to their own kid…?" Brandelis asked, voice hollow. "How can you find it in you to hurt your son or daughter that bad?"

Meliot was quiet. "Sometimes it's the only behavior you know or learned," he said. "Brandin… Brandin isn't the first generation in his family to do such things to their children… His father did too, and worse… His father would tell him it was how you expressed love, while he was scr... hurting him and his brother. That was how he had learned to express love from his _own_ father, and it was how his children were starting to learn to express love themselves. By the time Brandin was old enough to figure out that wasn't how things really were, it was too late. He didn't care anymore. He himself couldn't bring himself to do it personally, but he would let others do it without even a second thought. He liked it. He liked watching it. He liked the power, he liked not being helpless, he liked harming for the sake of harming, he liked… he liked watching them squirm and hearing them squeal and whimper and beg and cry… He liked not being the victim... I wish I could say he was doomed from the start, but he wasn't because his brother wasn't. His brother chose to be something more. His brother chose another way, another path, and his brother suffered worse than Brandin did because not only did he get it from his father, but from Brandin too, and he _still_ came out of it the opposite of them! He _still_ saw it was wrong and _still_ saved himself from that fate! He chose better. He chose… he chose not to be them. He chose not to be a monster. God, he didn't want to be a monster. He didn't want to hurt. He didn't want… he didn't want to make others suffer like he had! Not ever!"

He suddenly realized he was rambling and clamped his mouth shut, but it was too late. Bran was staring at him in shock, eyes wide. Meliot cursed himself. "No one who was an outsider looking in could know all that detail…" Bran finally, numbly, said. Meliot kept quiet. "S-sir Meliot…?" Meliot remained silent. "You knew. You knew what he was doing… Why didn't you stop him?! You knew, damn you! Why didn't you stop him from hurting me?!"

"Because I _didn't_ know!" Meliot shot sharply. "I didn't even know he was coming to the school semi-regularly let alone that he had a son! Let alone that the son was _you_! On top of that the last time I saw him, long ago, he told me he'd gotten better and stopped those things. At first I didn't believe him and monitored him, but as time passed and he didn't do anything, I started to think that maybe… maybe he was telling the truth! I wanted him to be telling the truth. I wanted him to be so badly because he was... he was my _brother_ … And my ignorance to who you were and my foolishness regarding my sibling screwed you over, but it's not going to screw you over ever again. Not on my watch. I'll rip his head off with my bare hands if I have to, to keep you and the others safe. I am _beyond_ done with him."

"You're my _uncle_ ," Brandelis numbly said in realization, looking some strange cross between appalled and hopeful.

Meliot was quiet. "So it would seem," he finally said. Bran was pale, shocked and totally unsure what to do with this information, tears threatening his eyes. He-he had an uncle? He-he had a family besides just his father…? He gasped, looking back at Meliot in pain. He didn't know what to do or say… Neither, it seemed, did Sir Meliot. So instead Brandelis let himself break down, curling his knees up in a sitting fetal position and rocking. Meliot was quiet, watching him, but soon moved to his side and took his shoulders gently, closing his eyes tightly and swallowing over a painful lump in his own thoat.

KAK

Mordred watched silently at his mother tended to Agravaine, who seemed to have passed out or fallen asleep to Anna's tending. Anna was humming softly. Mordred shifted. He wanted to ask mommy what the talking tree had meant when it had said 'all hail the son of Morgause'. He didn't understand why it would say that. Maybe mama would. "Mommy?" he said.

"Yes dearest?" Anna said.

"I… We saw a talking tree in the woods," he said.

"My dear, that's nothing unusual. Ents are commonplace in these woods," Morgause said.

"I guess… But this one knew me…" Mordred said. Anna paused, glacing over with a smile, vaguely curious at this remark. "It… it said strange things, mama."

Morgause was quiet. Soon she turned, folding her hands in her lap. "What strange things did it say, my little love?" she asked.

Mordred hesitated again, looking like he might choose to keep quiet. "It… said all hail the son of Morgause," he finally replied.

Anna was quiet, the smile plastered on her face, but her eyes had started to glitter a bit. "Did it now," she finally said.

"But-but why would it hail me?" he asked. "It did that after Arthur told it he was high king, and then it said those words, but I don't understand why. It said 'I think not. All hail Mordred'. Or something like that? Why mama? Why?"

Anna was quiet. "Because your father was a king," she finally replied, choosing a middle ground for now so she could feel this out.

Mordred started, eyes widening. "He was?" he asked.

"Yes. Like Lot is," Morgause said. "Only more powerful still."

"Pellinore?" Mordred asked a little uneasily.

Anna laughed. "Of course not my darling!" she said. "I have higher standards than that."

"Galehaut?!" Mordred exclaimed, looking horrified and a bit terrified of the idea.

Anna laughed again, clapping her hands. "Mordred, I assure you it's none of your teachers or the Worcestershire faculty," she said. "Although Galehaut would have been quite a catch, I'll admit."

"Then who?" Mordred frustratedly demanded, agitated now.

She smiled a pretty little smirk and opened her arms. "Come here my darling," she said softly. He didn't for a minute, but soon moved to her and crawled into her lap. She wrapped her arms around him, sighing through the nose and resting her chin on his head while she started to rock him and hum…

" _Hush child, darkness will rise from the deep and carry you down into  
Sleep, child, darkness will rise from the deep and carry you down into…  
Guileless son I'll shape your belief and you'll always know that your father's a thief,  
And you won't understand the cause of your grief,  
But you'll always follow the voices beneath…_"

Mordred felt himself getting sleepy at the soothing voice. Morgause pressed a soft kiss to his head.

" _Guileless son your spirit will hate her,  
The flower who'll marry your father the traitor;  
And you will expose his puppeteer behavior,  
For you are the proof of how he betrayed her loyalty._"

Mordred yawned, rubbing his eyes tiredly and leaning against her listening quietly.

"In time, my child. In time you will learn who your father is. Only not today." She sang again. " _Sleep child, darkness will rise from the deep and carry you down into sleep…_ " She began to hum, and Mordred soon fell asleep. She smiled, picking him up and laying him next to his brother, covering them both. "Oh how you will learn," she purred to her young child, running her fingers through his hair before turning and leaving them.

KAK

Morgause moved through the halls, humming to herself. "She came around a corner and paused a second, smile creeping across her lips. Arthur was coming this way reading a letter ponderously. He looked up and saw her. He started and paused. She smiled at him coldly. He blinked at her, shifted, then swallowed and tried to make himself look more regal and poised. How cute. "Sister," he greeted warily.

"Slut," she cooed in response. Arthur started and looked stung before frowning. "Only because you made me one you hypocrite," he bit at her sharply.

"Ooh, Arthur's growing a spine," Anna sardonically said. Maybe _she_ was where Gareth got it, Arthur dryly said to himself. "I may have been your first, but I wasn't your last. Tell me, brother… how was Lisanor the last time you saw her?" Arthur grew visibly pale, body stiffening up and eyes widening in uncertainty and fear. He looked like he'd been caught with his hand in the sweets. Anna's smirk grew more. Arthur was still and quiet, staring. She chuckled coldly. "So in the meanwhile there came a damsel that was an earl's daughter: his name was Sanam, and her name was Lisanor, a passing fair damosel; and so she came thither for to do homage, as other lords did after the great battle. And King Arthur set his love greatly upon her, and so did she upon him, and the king had ado with her," his sister purred.

Arthur, breathing heavily now with tears threatening his blazing eyes, savagely bit back a sharp and angry retort, clenching and unclenching his fists. He gritted his teeth. "I wanted to feel normal," he hissed dakly to her. "You made me feel worthless! You made me feel like I was a freak! I just… I wanted to feel like it was normal and okay again. And she-she wanted to feel normal too because s-someone she loved hurt her too and-and she just knew what to do and said that maybe it would help us feel okay again like we weren't abnormal or tainted or ruined, and she knew how to do it and it felt _good_ ; not like when I was with you. And for the first time since you hurt me I felt like it was going to be alright! I felt like I wasn't bad anymore! You coo over Agravaine and ask him if they hurt him and act all worried when you did it yourself! To your own _brother_!"

"I didn't know you were my brother!" she shouted.

"I was a child!" he yelled.

"So was I when I first did it!" she snapped. " _I_ never felt bad or defiled. I liked it and obviously I wanted more, otherwise you wouldn't have four nephews and a niece in your age demogaphic."

"Well I'm not you, Morgause! I'm not you!" he yelled.

"You know how _I_ remember it?" she asked almost venomously.

"No doubt twistedly!" Arthur shouted.

"Thither came to him King Lot's wife, of Orkney, in manner of a message… and she came richly beseen, with her four sons, Gawain, Gaheris, Agravaine, and Gareth, with many other knights and ladies. For she was a passing fair lady, therefore the king cast great love unto her, and desired to lie by her; so they were agreed… and she was his sister, on his mother's side, Igraine. So there she rested her a month, and at the last departed… But all this time King Arthur knew not that King Lot's wife was his sister," she said.

"One: I didn't even know I was the birthrighted king then and I had and still have no clue what Lot's huge issue was with me those three years ago! Two: Yes I flirted and 'cast great love unto you'. I was twelve, newly awakened hormones were stating to rage, and you were gorgeous, but I wasn't looking for more than that! Since you were, you know, an adult, I didn't figure you'd act on it anyway. I figured you would think it was cute at most! Three: I was 'agreed' because I was drugged, you cast an illusion on yourself to look like my crush Gwen, and you lured me up into my room where I expected to maybe talk a bit with her or flirt and no more; then you dropped the illusion and pinned me down on my bed and had at it! I didn't fight back because I was, as established, drugged and loopy out of my head!" Arthur retorted.

They were staring to pace around each other now, eyes blazing and looking ready to go on the attack at a moment's notice. "I don't think I like this braver you," she sneered at him.

"I'm not a scared child anymore," Arthur replied in a hiss. "This last week I've learned more and seen more than I ever wanted to, and I'm done hiding from the past and from what you did to me. Especially after seeing what happened when other kids I know hid what was done to them from everyone else. I'm not letting myself end up in a situation like the one Selices or Brandelis was in. I'm done cowering in fear of you."

"You stupid little boy," Morgause hissed viciously.

"Hey Morgause, beat it! This one's mine," Lancelot's agitated voice shouted out. Morgause and Arthur turned in surprise to see Lancelot storming towards them, eyes blazing and fists clenched in anger. "Get your own victim!"

"Why you little…" Morgause began, totally taken aback by the attitude.

"Hit. The road," Lancelot said. "Artie's all mine!"

"Yeah, I'm… that actually sounds kind of wrong, but you get the point!" Arthur shot, backing Lancelot.

"Perhaps you want to see your precious reputation in tatters, Lancelot?" Anna blatantly threatened.

"Screw yourself Anna! Stay away from Lance and the rest of my friends, I mean school mates, or so help me!" Arthur said, forming a united front with Lancelot. Anna, fuming, turned on her heel with a huff and marched away.

They glared after her and soon Lancelot turned to Arthur. "What was _that_ about?" he asked.

"She hates me," Arthur said with a sigh, rolling his eyes. "Uh, thanks… For kind of sticking up for me."

"I got dibs on you and I'm not sharing," Lancelot replied, smirking wryly.

Arthur smirked wryly back. "Wouldn't have it any other way, Lance," he said, folding his arms in vague amusement. Lancelot chuckled and turned to go. Arthur grinned and followed him back to the others.

 **End**


End file.
